”Yes,” I say breathless. "Are you a slut, Miss Steel?" "What? No," I protest. "Oh, but I think you are, Miss Steel. Any girl who would let thei... boss do her anyhow, anywhere, anytime is a slut," he says, repeating my previous words. "You are a slut, Miss Steel. My little slut, aren't you?" He caresses my breasts softly, rubbing my nipples through the lace of my bra. Moaning, I arch into his touch, filling his hands. The folders slip from my fingers and drop to the floor. "I want you to say. They guy kinda snickered, “So—you hold your head down so I don't see your face, or---you waltz in here looking like gods gift, with all them abs, hoping Im queer and I'll let you have a room in exchange for some of that dick ur packin, or---your going to try to make me believe your really 19, but you don't have your ID on ya, after driving out here in the middle of no where without it, and would I be really cool and run over to the store and get you a six pack. So cowboy---which is it”? I. More

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