She knelt behind a tray covered in black silk upon which some intriguing shapes rested; her knees spread brazenly wide exposing her bright nether hair...and lower lips (Which it seemed were already beaded with some excitement). I knew that all the other men and no doubt some few women 'mongst our lost number would be drinking in the sight of her. She though was not what I was looking at. She had outdone herself; for next to her stood an artist's easel with a hand written card which read;. I waited in the library for what felt like ages before she appeared but it was likely only ten minutes. In her right hand was hairbrush with a long handle and a surface about seven inches long by three inches wide. Looking me up and down she uttered a single word, “Strip.” “Deb, lets talk about this,” I said in a trembling voice. “Strip now,” she said again in a louder voice. “Everything except your underwear.” She now had her arms folded across her chest. Somehow I knew that begging would. More

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