"Do you mind if I have a closer look?" he asked, standing up and moving towards her.

"Maggie, stand up for our guest, dear. Don't be rude."

Without pause she stood in the center of the room, and the only indication of her excitement was the sight of her chest moving up and down. James circled her without raising a hand as I leaned back on the couch, and for a moment I felt completely at peace. It was the calm before a storm, or the break between notes in a melody. It was the second between breaths, and the instant of weightlessness as a plane ascends. It was a moment like any other, it just happened to last forever.

"She is rather pretty," James said, waking me up from my trance.

"Maggie, take your shirt off for our guest. I want him to see you."

Her hands trembled as she slowly undid buttons one at a time. Beneath her shirt was nothing but freckles, goose bumps, and a strand of pearls. She slipped her arms out from the sleeves, and folded it over her left hand and wrist.
She stood perfectly still as James continued to circle her.

"Does she always breathe this quickly?" he asked as he paused.

"I think she might be nervous," I said, moving to them. "It's always hard to tell with such a voracious little slut as Maggie here, but you never know. It's possible she's more afraid that we won't take her."