My breath caught a second time. I was looking into a large mirror over a bathroom counter and she was clearly visible, sitting on a commode, naked from the waist down, her legs parted. She was grinning.
"You like my sculpting?"
I nodded, unable to speak, looking back and forth from her to the sculpting, then back to her, then back . . . .
"I like it a lot." She said. "But I called you in here because I am out of toilet paper in here. There is paper in the cabinet in the other bathroom down the hall. Would you go get a roll for me? I don't like to walk with s**t squishing in the crack of my ass."
I turned and hurried down the hall, not believing she had used language that explicit with a near stranger. I returned and handed her the toilet paper and watched as she wiped herself, front an
