Highest Ranking #3
~The Duke of Bexley watched her wash the dishes from the stony alcove. The rhythmic movement of her hand over the slim surface of the plate, dipping into the soapy suds and back out entranced him. She was sublime. Surely no maid in history ever washed a dish with so much sex appeal.
He was in rapture.
He was in torment.
It seemed wrong to lust over his maid and he would stop... right this minute. Or maybe he should wait until the next minute. It wouldn't do to stop in the middle of a minute. And, maybe he should have his watch re-wound. Who was to say that it even mapped the time correctly. Just as he pondered the mechanical laws governing his time piece Verushka moved her arm upward in an arc. Releasing tension from her shoulder she let a long stream of foam slide suggestively down her forearm.
The Duke quickly turned away and walked swiftly in the direction of the pouring rain outside. And, though he could see the question in his groom's eyes as the water seeped through his clothes to chill his bones, he didn't care because each rivulet of dishwater that caressed Verushka's course yet supple skin haunted him. The swell of her chest as she moved; the motion of her hands when she worked was intoxicating and he knew that it would not be long before he had to have her.
At least there was some comfort in that.~