As she finishes putting on her wrinkled pencil skirt and her red lace bra, she grabs her torn white button up and gives me a questioning look. “Sir,...you ripped this off of me…” I raise an eyebrow at her. Is she stupid? Of course I knew that. I did it to help her. That shirt was so tight against her chest that it would have ripped without my help. “Well, sir, I have nothing else to wear.” I sigh as I take my blazer off and throw it to her. You’d think that after months of fucking, she’d know by. Not that Taylor allowed that excuse to stand, even when just giving it to himself.“I speak some,” she said in English, before switching to Russian, “Your Russian is better than my English, however.”She’d been silent from the moment she had been brought out to him until exiting the bathroom and calling out his ruse, and he found her voice both strange and yet oddly right for her. It was high pitched, although not squeaky, and he was sure if she tried at it, she could sound like the stereotypical. More

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