To a man of Alan’s temperament this would be difficult even under normal circumstances. The biological urgencies of his flesh and the natural imaginations and inclinations of his mind raged against the growing restriction. And when their slinky young domestic pranced before him every day, veritably inviting him into infidelity with every little smile, every little gesture, the situation was almost intolerable.
Every morning, after all, Melissa padded about the kitchen and dining room wearing nothing but her long nightshirt, her body naked and supple and smooth just beneath the silky liquid sliding of the sheer layer of cotton. She was subtle enough, apparently, so that Janet never noticed. Yet Alan saw the girl watching him out of the corner of her eye, saw the way she silently dared him
