The young woman's eyes went wide. Her mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. The herbs scattered across the floor lay forgotten between her feet. Her glasses — round, wire-framed, slightly askew from the shock — sat on her nose like two tiny windows into a mind that was currently blue-screening.
Then she closed the door.
Swiftly. Firmly. The click of the latch was definitive. The sound of someone making a decision.
I raised an eyebrow. Looked at Mira. Mira shrugged. Helena tilted her head. Rosalind, still impaled on my cock, murmured something about blessings and passed out.
The door reopened. Just a crack. Two eyes behind two glasses peered through the gap. Scanned the room. Found me. Found my cock. Found Rosalind's leaking pussy. Found the three other women.
The door opened fully.
The young woman dropped to her knees.
