“What’s your fault? What do you mean?”
“I should leave you both alone. I shouldn’t keep you both hanging.”
“Hey, who’s hanging? Looks like he’s had his fun and now I’m going to have mine. And I hope you’re going to join in, or it won’t be much fun at all.”
He hooked an arm around Lydia and pulled her closer, kissing the top of her head.
“You feel dirty?” he said.
She nodded.
“Well, you are, you know. You could do with a wash. Go and get undressed and lie down on the bed and I’ll give you a good scrub.”
“I…” She pressed her thighs together. “Can I go to the bathroom first?” She wanted those wretched balls and that terrible plug out of her before Milan saw them.
“Oh, you know, he said something about that. He said I had to take you straight to bed.”
“He said that? What? Why would he say that?”
“Well, that’s what I’m wondering. So I’m going to find out. Come on.”
He ushered her into the bedroom.
“He’s trying to get at you,” said Lydia. “Or something. I don’t know what he’s trying to do.”
“Shh. Stand still. Put your arms up.”
Milan unzipped her crumpled floral-patterned cotton dress and pulled it over her head, revealing yet more dried patches of the German conductor’s seed.
Now, standing in front of Milan with her filthy knees and just her underwear, she suddenly felt a pulse of excitement at the thought of what he would discover.
She knew he wouldn’t be shocked—it just wasn’t Milan to be shocked at anything sexual, however outrageous. He would probably be amused. And aroused.
“Hold it there,” he whispered. “I’ll get a wash cloth.”
He went briefly to the bathroom and ret
urned with a damp, lathered flannel, which he ran over her breasts, flaking off and clearing away the evidence of von Ritter’s orgasm.
He bent lower and dabbed at her knees which, despite their eyebrow-raising appearance, were merely dusty and not scraped or skinned. Pretty soon they were clean and pink once more, and ready to kneel on considerably softer surfaces.
He unhooked her bra and reached for her knickers.
She flinched unintentionally and braced herself for the embarrassing revelation.
“What’s that? You want to keep them on? Not like you, Lydia. And besides…what’s that I can smell?”
His long nose sniffed the air around her nether regions.
“Somebody was very turned on,” he said. “Or is very turned on. Which one, Lydia?”
“I’m always turned on around you,” she prevaricated.
“I know, but…oh.”
The knickers were whipped off and Lydia guessed he had caught sight of that little peeking flange, just above her pussy.
He hooked his arm behind her knees and held her legs up straight, so that her bottom was almost completely lifted off the bed.