Miss Lula kept staring at her feet. Her tongue poked out, swiped across her lips as if she were thirsty. Her gaze traveled up the rest of Amiya’s body, and there was no mistaking the interest simmering in her eyes.
So it’s this kind of party, Amiya thought, and was surprised at how little it bothered her. Perhaps because it was something that, finally, she could understand. If Miss Lula secretly craved to see some bare skin, she could give her a show. She could give her a show she would never forget—and try to find a way to use it to her advantage.
Not until your survival is at stake do you realize what you might be willing to do to stay alive . . .
Taking her time, Amiya unbuckled her belt. Miss Lula watched her, her hands clasped together so tightly in front of her it was as if she were trying to keep them under control. Amiya turned around, putting her back to the woman. She bent over slightly at the waist, slowly rolled down her pants.
She heard Miss Lula pull in a quick breath and whisper, “Lord have mercy.”
Amiya tried to conceal her own trembling. She had Miss Lula heading in the right direction, but she had to play this carefully. If she hit a false note, or overplayed her hand, it would all blow up in her face.
“There’s a zipper at the back of my blouse,” Amiya said. She glanced over her shoulder, offered a demure smile. “Can you help me with it, please?”
Miss Lula hesitated as if she didn’t trust herself, but her eagerness got the better of her and she came into the room, her shadow falling over Amiya. She fumbled with the blouse’s zipper, managed to tug it down the track. Amiya could hear the woman’s quivering breaths.
Amiya turned around. Miss Lula stepped back, but remained close by. Amiya slipped the blouse over her head and let it drop to the floor. Miss Lula’s gaze never left Amiya’s chest.
Amiya unhooked her bra, slowly let the cups fall away. Casually, purposely avoiding Miss Lula’s eyes, she took her breasts in her hands, kneaded them a bit as if testing their firmness.
She stole a glance at her captive audience. A glistening film of sweat had moistened Miss Lula’s forehead.Good.
Amiya peeled down her panties and kicked them aside, too. Turning sideways, she stretched her arms above her head like a lazy, sunbathing cat. Miss Lula’s gaze was so hot Amiya thought she could feel it on her skin, like a heat lamp.
Under any other circumstances, Amiya would have been ashamed of herself. She knew that people found her attractive. She’d been getting compliments on her looks since she was a teenager, but she had never been one to use her physical assets to gain an advantage. She always strived to get ahead by using her intelligence, personality, and hard work.
But if she had to use her body as a weapon to secure her eventual freedom, so be it.
After she had given Miss Lula enough of an eyeful to guarantee the woman a couple of restless nights, Amiya climbed into the tub. The water had cooled a bit, but still felt amazing.
“Oh, I forgot the soap and sponge,” Amiya said. “Can you please bring those to me?”
Miss Lula hurried forward and picked up the items from the end table. She placed them on the edge of the tub and waited there, hesitant.
“Thank you,” Amiya said. “Gosh, I’m really sore. So much activity today.”
She raised one leg out of the tub, water cascading along her thigh. Slowly, she flexed her muscles, letting out a soft moan that wasn’t entirely false.
Miss Lula was entranced.
Flexing her thigh again, Amiya asked, “Can you help soap my legs, please?”
She knew she was playing with fire then, but she needed to tease Miss Lula just a bit more to ensure the woman’s cooperation.
Miss Lula was kneeling at the edge of the tub before Amiya could finish her request.
“I wouldn’t normally do something like this,” Miss Lula said. “I’m not supposed to touch the ladies.”
“It’s only a bath,” Amiya said. She lifted her other leg out of the water, wriggled her toes, stretched her calf muscle. Miss Lula followed every movement with keen interest. “It’s no big deal.”
Miss Lula pulled her gaze away, looked behind them at the doorway.
“You can’t tell anyone I touched you,” Miss Lula said.
“It’ll be our little secret,” Amiya said.
Miss Lula took one of Amiya’s legs in her hands, ran her fingers along her skin. Amiya could feel the woman’s hands trembling, and despite herself she felt a twinge of power.
Carefully, as if handling a delicate piece of crystal, Miss Lula took the bar of soap and slid it across Amiya’s thigh, down to her calf, ankle, and foot.
