‘…If Winston attacks me, is there any way to get out?’
There were many ways to get out.
It was rare to find a way to escape undetected as a specially trained spy.
While she stood politely with her hands next to Winston, he turned to Sally.
With his outstretched legs slid over the other knee, the sharp black nose lifted up and caught on the hem of Sally’s skirt.
As soon as she took a step back, he held out his empty hand to her.
Though his feet lifted the ends of her skirt like a mischievous boy, and his hand was like a gentleman.
Not knowing what to ask, she tilted her head.
At that, Winston pointed to the ceiling with a hand holding a cigar.
When she followed his hand, a black chandelier caught her eye.
As Sally glanced down again, he held out his hand again, pointing his eyes at the chandelier.
“If you wait on the sofa for a while…”
“Just do it.”
“The dust will fall.”
“It’s your job to clean it up.”
What kind of trick was this…?
Deeply buried in the leather backrest, he showed his strong will to keep getting hit by the dust falling from the chandelier.
If I could hit your head with a duster, I’d gladly clean it up.’
With no choice, Sally eventually put down her bucket and picked up the duster in it.
She stopped as she tried to hold his hand, which was held out in front of her as stubborn as someone who had come to collect a debt.
It would also be her job to erase her footprints when she went up to the desk with her shoes.
Standing on the desk and lifting one foot behind, she tugged at her thin shoelaces.
As Sally pulled them apart, she grabbed the heels of her shoes with her hands and pulled them gently down.
From the moment her white stocking-covered feet were pulled out of the black shoes, Winston kept his eyes on her as if taking them off was an interesting spectacle.
His eyes ripped her open even at these everyday things like a newspaper.
The only way to get out of the uncomfortable gaze quickly was to do what was ordered quickly and leave.
With that thought, Sally took his hand without hesitation and placed her knee on her desk.
It was just then Winston’s hand fell off, and she was about to stand up with one foot on the desk.
Sally grabbed his left foot, which had been sticking out of the edge of the desk.
As the wind shook her body, she hurriedly put her hands on the desk.
She looked over her shoulder, lying face down like a sprinter right before starting.
Perhaps, he will pull up her skirt.
She hurriedly reached back with one hand and pressed the hem of her skirt, but stumbled.
His gaze was on something else entirely.
Winston grinned, not taking his eyes off Sally’s toes.
His thick thumb touched the soft flesh with the thin stockings in between and gently swept the gentle curves.
From her toes to the back, goosebumps rose.
The sound of pain seemed to come out at the intentionally tickling touch.
If she did, it was clear that it would be a promiscuous misunderstanding.
Sally bit her lips firmly.
His soft touch changed when she pulled her foot in as a sign to let go.
Winston asked as he clasped his long fingers together and wrapped them around her feet.
“What do you do with the money I gave you?”
Sally’s resistance stopped at the unexpected topic.
What was his reason for suddenly bringing up the money story?
“My mother’s hospital bills…”
“Did you send it?”
“No, not yet.”
She could give it back if he asked for it, that was no problem.
A large landowner was said to be a bit shy, though the more he had, the more greedy he was.
But, what if not…? A sensible author would have noticed loopholes if they bit into Sally Bristol’s personal details.
Sally opened her mouth again, wetting her dry lips.
“Set some money aside to buy a pair of stockings.”
What was he talking about? Sally didn’t even have time to ask, because moments later, a screeching sound came out of her mouth in horror.
It was because of the thick thumb digging into her stockings and rubbing her thick flesh.
“There is a hole.”
Winston’s voice was mixed with a light laugh.
It was fortunate that it was only a mischievous playfulness, not a sharp sense.
Still, she couldn’t relax.
As he put his thumb in the hole in the bottom of the stocking and swung it around, his fingers went deep into the hole and teased her little toe.
As the hole ripped even more, Sally’s cheeks turned bright red.
“What kind of hospital, huh? Do I pay less per week? It’s probably not like that, but you don’t have the money to buy a pair of stockings, so you’re wearing things with holes in them? Sally, how do I feel when you see this?”
“Ah, that’s not it… Captain, I’ll definitely buy a new one tomorrow, so please let me go.
Well, the cleaning…”
Leon smiled and raised his hand.
Even though she was on his desk, the maid got up hastily and ran to the corner.
A woman whose face did not change even when she saw blood was turning red because of this.
Sally quickly wiped the chandelier, pouring into herself all the vulgarity she knew.
Son of a b*tch.
Eat the dust
She brushed the ostrich fur on the tip of the duster against the top of Winston’s golden crown.
However, no matter how many times she rubbed, the dust did not come off.
After all, it had only been a few days since she cleaned the chandelier.
In the end, she had no choice but to finish quickly and go down.
Her timid retaliation was abandoned, and she turned her back as she rubbed the front of the chandelier.
A muffled murmur passed over her calves wrapped in thin stockings.
As she turned around, Sally could hear a creaking sound.
Looking down, Winston pretended not to have done anything and was leaning far away from the back of his chair.
The cigar in his hand seemed to have been burned, not smoked, so a lump of grayish ash was hanging from the end of the short cigar.
“No, I’m talking to myself.”
The maid smiled politely.
However, the moment she turned her head, her turquoise eyes cried out.
‘I hate you.’
Leon smiled obliquely as he brushed his cigar into the ashtray.
This evening, sitting face to face with the Grand Princess, his imagination was correct.
Sally’s bloomers were white.
Now that he had checked the color of her underwear, it was natural that he wanted to check the color inside.
Was it the same color as his imagination…?
He wanted to put his hand inside that black skirt and white underskirt and rip open the dense seam in the middle of the bloomer at once.
Leon bit his smooth lower lip with the tip of his tongue and abruptly chewed it with his sharp teeth.
He wondered if a man had ever seen it?
He rubbed the tip of the cigar into the ashtray and put it out, as if hitting it in the eyes of a man whom he didn’t even know existed.
“It’s done, Captain.
Then, I will clean the carpet.”
Pretending to clean the chandelier was almost over.
Sally crept down under the desk before Winston scolded her.
It was disgusting to hold her hand as if he was a gentleman when he was just spying under her skirt.
It was fortunate that Winston didn’t bother her anymore.
Sally knelt down on the carpet and started wiping away the black stains.
She was engrossed in the thought of cleaning it up and leaving.
When she came to her senses, quite a bit of time had passed.
Meanwhile, Winston was as though he had evaporated.
There was no sound of him flipping through papers, nor of lighting a lighter.
She confirmed with occasional deep breaths that the other person, unfortunately, had not evaporated.
Since the ink did not dry out because he had just spilled it, it was not difficult to erase it.
The spot where it was stained was a little darker than the other places, but she’ll just let it go.
Sally raised her body, unwrapped her crumpled skirt, and turned behind to face Winston.
He was gazing at her with his hand lightly clenched against his slanted chin.
Was he no longer smoking cigars? His right hand was under the desk and was not visible.
What was so interesting to see an ordinary maid routinely wiping carpet stains? The corners of his lips curled up slightly.
Where did his usual sharpness go? A strangely soft, sticky gaze fell from Sally’s face into her hands, which were carefully clasped together.
Did he take a drink? Though there was no water, let alone alcohol, on the desk.
“It’s all done.
Do you need anything more?”
Winston nodded his head lightly.
So, was there something to be done or not…?
Sally tilted her head slightly, and her gaze turned to the ashtray under his chin.
An ashtray made of black marble lay in the ashes of a high-quality cigar that Winston had wasted a while ago.
‘I can go out with the excuse of emptying the ashtray.’
Thinking that, she walked over to Winston with a light foot and picked up the ashtray.
However, she hardened like stone.
It was because his hand, covered in thick tendons and veins, had slid slowly under the desk.
The copper-colored object he held in his hand also had tendons and veins that stood out smoothly.
The ashtray slid from Sally’s hand and fell to the edge of the desk.
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