And just as she stepped out, the man returned.
‘Hey!’ she shrieked, covering her breasts and pubis.
‘Relax, I’m not going to touch you,’ he said, scuttling to the far side of the room.
He placed a floppy white mask on the shelf under the mirror then opened his white backpack, retrieved some undergarments and threw them at Ophelia without looking at her.
The soft clean cotton felt wonderful against Ophelia’s clean skin.
‘Please lean forward,’ he said, turning to face her. ‘I need to deal with your hair.’
With her face hovering over the pile of filthy clothes on the floor, Ophelia felt the man’s fingers ruffle through her hair, dragging every strand toward her crown, making her skin prickle. Then he shaved it off.
‘Really?’ she asked. ‘Is this necessary?’
‘I’m afraid it is,’ he repli
