As Mr. Wilson, he had touched her shoulders, arms, and sides—coming perilously close to her breasts, but never actually touching them. She couldn't ...ven remember the dialogue they'd spoken, but she remembered staring at the script and feeling his fingers touching her ... stroking her ... almost hypnotizing her.He was supposed to touch her breasts on the outside of her clothing the first time. What they got on tape sounded like that too, but it hadn't been that way. Her very realistic sounding. . but now she merely regarded him as a piece of distasteful male flesh she had to serve.That, it seemed, had developed into being her function in life.Of course, she still hated him, But it was not that initial, wild uncontrolled hate. It was continuous, low slowburning hate. Something she would learn to exist with.Miss Judith unchained her charge. She was well content with her work. Quentin Osman would be both amazed and delighted, she was sure. The conversation of haughty Julia Chant to. More

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