Chapter 87

My Master is wearing his customary white linen shirt with the black jeans he knows I like. I've noticed recently that his wardrobe contains more of both jeans and shirts than when we first met.

Unravelling his tie, for a moment, he looks about to slide it from under his collar. Then, glancing sidelong, he takes one of the cuffs I set out, letting it dangle. "Good choice," he says. Taking off the tie, he lays it across the back of a chair.

Holding my eyes, he unfastens the top button of his shirt. "The rest are yours, Elizabeth."

Gliding my palms up his chest, I slip open the second button, then the third, working my way down before, glancing up for permission, I tug the shirt free of his belt and unfasten the final button.

My Master. So handsome. Older, but he cares for himself. His chest hair is flecked silver. Nonetheless, his abs and pecs are taut, his waist firm and tight, his belly flat.

Below his belt though, he is not flat. The dark fabric of his jeans strains, the buttoned fro