Page 65 of A Contracted Spouse for the Prizefighter

“There’s no hurry. Do you want some water?”

“Yes, but I don’t want you to move.”

He hesitated. “Which is the more pressing need?” he asked. Dora’s arms tightened about his neck, so he guessed his embrace was the priority. He was not sure how long they remained entwined. In fact, he was just debating if she had dropped off to sleep when she finally lifted her head.

“Water now?” he asked. She nodded, and he disentangled himself and made his way over to the chest of drawers where a pitcher of water was stood. He poured two glasses and returned to the bed. Dora sat up and took her glass, drinking it down in gulps. Clem drank his down, then stripped off his long underwear and rejoined her in the bed.

Dora thumped down her glass and then wriggled out of her drawers, dropping them over the side of the bed, turning toward him. “We’re both naked,” she observed, turning toward him.

“Yes,” Clem agreed.

“For the first time, with each other, I mean.” Clem gave a rumble of agreement this time. “Do you think I could take a good look at you?” Dora asked politely. “Only I’ve never seen one before.”

“You’ve seen my dick before,” Clem pointed out with a lazy grin.

Dora ducked her head, looking embarrassed. “I actually meant, well, an adult male,” she explained. “Is that an odd request to make? I won’t be offended if so. I did take a good look just now when you were pouring the water, but I—”

“I have no objection,” Clem said, throwing back the covers and exposing himself to her. “You can look your fill, so long as you return the favor.” Dora followed suit, neatly flipping back the counterpane. Clem sat up, drawing his knees up and resting his arms on them. As anticipated, Dora did likewise, so they were sat toe to toe.

“You have long legs,” he observed appreciatively. “It was the first thing I noticed about you. That you had good legs.”

Dora cocked her head to one side. “Likely because I was wearing silk breeches at the time. Yours are quite hairy.” Her eyes traveled over him curiously. “Your chest and arms too.”

“I’m hairy all over,” he agreed solemnly.

“I like it.”

“That’s good. I like your hair too,” Clem said gazing fixedly between her legs. “It’s nice and dark there.”

Dora gave a surprised laugh. “I once heard—” She broke off awkwardly.

“Tell me.” Her furtive look intrigued him. Had someone told her that some women shaved?

“About a famous cancan dancer in France,” Dora said in a low voice. “She—well—when she performed, she did not wear any drawers. So, when she gave a high kick, her patrons got a tiny glimpse of—well—her hair, down there.” Her eyes were wide and scandalized.

Clem could not help but grin. “For an extra thrill? Who told you that?”

“Well …” Her gaze slid away. “They did not actually tell me, but I overheard some actresses gossiping one time about it.”

“And you filed that information away to think about later?” Dora gave an adorably guilty start. “I’m starting to get your measure, Dora Dabney,” he teased.

She broke out in smiles but did not rise to the bait. “Have you ever—seen anything like that?” she asked tentatively.

Clem shook his head. “I’ve never been to France. Never had any cause to cross the channel.”

“I’d love to go,” Dora said resting her chin on her knees.

“Why?” Clem asked. “You can just lift up your own petticoats if you want a glimpse.”

Dora gasped. “Clem!”

He laughed. “None of theirs will be as nice as yours; I can guarantee it.”

“That’s not what I—” She broke off, narrowing her eyes. “You’re teasing me!”

“Just a little,” he admitted, “but I’m in earnest about how nice yours is.”

“Is there another word for it?” she asked curiously. “I mean, like you have another word for your penis.”