Amily the personal maid-2

Amily was staring at me, waiting for me to answer.

“I don’t really know. I guess it varies. I sort of lose track of time when I’m in there,” I babbled.

Amily giggled, sounding so girlish for a mature woman, and grinned.

“I bet,” she replied, “not a shower to use if you are in a hurry.”

She reached past me and turned the knob, blasting steam out at full force and heat. Her arm brushed my chest, and her hip nudged mine. As she shut the enclosure and turned toward me, her chest briefly caressed my belly. Glancing down, I saw her eyes looking up at me, and further down, her nipples poked hard against her shirt. Although she had closed the door, enough steam had escaped so that we were very warm.

“You look very handsome when you blush,” Amily teased. “Is there anything else we need to measure while we wait for the steam?”

She held up her tape measure, her eyes never leaving mine. I was hoping that her hand would caress my bulge, silently giving me permission to strip her, but she was not that aggressive. Clearly, measuring customer’s cocks was not something she did every day, or she would know just to tug my pants down – there was not even a zipper to contend with – and whip out my meat. In fact at that instant I was picturing that in my mind, with her falling to her knees and sucking the tip between her willing lips. In reality, there was just an awkward moment of silence.