PROLOGUE
Manning started the surveillance system and switched to the bathroom view. The image filled his screen, panning and zooming in response to his practiced touch on the joystick. His free hand moved discreetly down behind his desk, towards his groin.
She was there, right on schedule, the shower already running. The display was so sharp that Manning could see the individual drops that splashed and condensed on the clear plastic shower screen, could make out the rivulets that ran down to the acrylic base.
He wasn't interested in details like that, though.
Emma pulled off her sneakers and stepped out of her jeans. It was a shame she always wore jeans, he thought, because she had fantastic legs: long, slender and shapely.
Manning zoomed to a close-up of her ankles. They looked so dainty, so exquisitely feminine that he longed to press his thumb into the fragile and inviting hollows that straddled the delicate joint.
Instead, he pressed harder against his cock, listening to the sound of running water and his own breathing, which was coming in short, heavy wheezes.
He pulled the view back just as Emma shucked her tee shirt over her head. There was no bra underneath, just the creamy perfection of her breasts, displayed like two handfuls of goddess-flesh to his voyeuristic gaze.
A little more than two handfuls if anything, he thought with a smirk. Not too much more, though. Just how he liked them, in fact.
Manning tracked the girl as she crossed the room, treating himself to a fully-zoomed close up of her nipples, ringed with delectably dark and puckered aureoles, succulent, inviting. He wondered what they'd taste like, how it would feel to roll them between his finger and thumb.
He could almost hear the way she'd squeal as she tried to writhe away.
"She's a pretty one, isn't she?"
Manning jerked his hand guiltily away from his groin and turned to face his visitor. "I wish you'd knock, Martelsen."
"Why bother? It's hardly a secret, for any of us."
"Even so, a manager needs some privacy in his office?"
"So I can see." Martelsen leaned over to peer at Manning's screen. Emma was in the cubicle now; all that could be seen were her discarded sneakers and clothes. "Such a shame she doesn't dress more? elegantly," he said. "I honestly think you might do something about that, old man."
"Really? Do you think she's ready?"
"Yes. We've been observing her for weeks now, and I've been going over her latest psych profiles. It's time we took her in hand."
"Then I'll see what I can do."
Martelsen gestured at the screen and then at the camera controls. "This could be a bit steamier, couldn't it?"
"No problem," Manning said, and both men leaned forward as he switched the view to the inside of the shower cubicle, and to Emma's wet, naked body.
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