Chapter Eleven
Three distinct knocks sounded, then they entered. They were naked. They bowed— the two escorts— because they had been taught respect, and the girl, certainly, because she feared reprisal. In the glow from fireplace flames, the twins’ bald heads and pierced n*****s contrasted dramatically with Miss Stapleton’s loose curls and less- pronounced bosom, her just- peeking- out ears, her sculpted cheeks, and her petulant pout.
If walls could talk, they would have told a tale on Kelli. She had been washed in a tub of tingling suds, and her private valley shaved. Hot wax had been painted across her flesh, caused to dry, and ripped away. Only the yellowish hair of her head remained. She now stood whiter than a ghost, and stripped of body hair, more delicate than a porcelain doll. A
