Nina stands at her desk, adjusting her crisp white blouse and smoothing her hands down the sleeves of her tailored blue romper. The short skirt hem grazes the tops of her black stockings as she moves. Hearing a knock at the door, she takes a deep breath and composes her expression into cool professionalism.
I resist the urge to tug self-consciously at my skirt hem, knowing any show of discomfort will only encourage him. I clear my throat "How may I assist you, young master?"
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