“What are those things?” I asked. I referred to two objects. One was a large car
“What are those things?” I asked. I referred to two objects. One was a large carton and the other was a weighty, sturdy metal box, about three feet square. The metal box looked as though it would fit into the carton, and, presumably, had been removed from it, after having been brought into the room. “Never mind them now,” he said. The metal box appeared extremely heavy and strong. It reminded me of a safe. I wondered if it was. Too, I wondered why it had been brought to the apartment. “Is that a safe?” I asked, indicating the box. It was sitting on the rug, like the carton. It was squat and stout, and efficient looking. Because of its weight it was impressed, with sharp lines, into the rug. “Not really,” he said. “But it may be used for the securing of valuables.” I glanced over at my robe on the easy chair, and the slippers at its foot. "My robe and slippers,” I said, “were in the bathroom, were they not?” “Yes,” he said. “You then entered the bathroom while I was showering, and removed them, did you not?” “Yes,” he said. I had neither seen nor heard him doing this, of course. The water had been running. The shower curtain had been drawn. “Why?” I asked. “We decided that you would appear before us much as you are,” he said. “But, why?” I asked. “It would be more convenient for us,” he said. “Matters might then proceed somewhat more simply for us than might otherwise have been the case.” I was angry. Obviously I had been manipulated. I had been ordered to shower. Then, while I had showered, my apartment had been entered and my robe and slippers removed from the bathroom. I had been surprised in my own apartment. Then I had been given little alternative other than to present myself before them, doubtless as they had planned, well cleaned, fresh from the shower, and half naked. “Are you angry?” he asked. “No,” I said, suddenly, “of course not.” I was suddenly afraid that they might cease to find me pleasing. Doubtless their entry into my apartment had some purpose. I was then certain I understood their motivations. They had wished to take me by surprise, to observe my reactions, to see me as though I might be confused or startled, to see how fetching and exciting I might appear, captured, so to speak, in a moment of charming disarray. I hoped I had not disappointed them. Doubtless they were interested in testing me for a performance in some commercial, perhaps having to do with soaps or beauty products. I hoped that my responses had not jeopardized my chances for participation in whatever might be their intended projects. I did so want to please them. He was looking down at me. He was so large and strong. I was afraid he was not pleased. I smiled my prettiest up at him. I adjusted the towel a bit about my breasts, seemingly inadvertently, accidentally, pulling it down a bit, and then, hastily, with seeming modesty, tucking it securely, much higher, even more closely, about my body. “It is only,” I smiled, “that you took me by such surprise. I did not know what to do.” “I understand,” he said. “It is not every day,” I said, smiling, “that a girl finds herself surprised in her own apartment and then, in effect, forced to present herself before unexpected guests clad only in a towel.” “That is true,” he said. I smiled again. “I hope that you are still interested in me,” I said, teasingly, and, I am afraid, a bit anxiously. -- source link