They still had a few servants, but most had fled long since. Maggie’s mother had passed away several years before the war. Maggie ran a brush throug... her fair locks and secured them at the nape of her neck in a bun. Her dress was somewhat out of fashion, but suitable for working at home or the hospital. Her bountiful curves strained the worn fabric but her beauty was timeless, and, as her father had told her many times, would probably remain so. She was the mirror image of her mother, who had. The two of them walked in silence towards the men's room for a few paces. Christine was again wearing her intense frown of deep thought, and trying to ignore her arousal.At this point, Alan realized he'd probably been a little too cavalier about the whole situation, given the enemies he had. Wouldn't it be ironic if I go to the bathroom and a bunch of thugs come out of nowhere and beat me up? I can't just make this problem go away by pushing it out of my mind. Maybe she's too vigilant, but I'm. More

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