Fumi drew in a slow breath, forcing her posture straight and her voice back into its usual cool, arrogant tone.
"Hmmm… I will wait for you outside…"
With that, she turned and walked out of the bathroom, the tight pencil skirt once again outlining the heavy sway of her big ass as she left. The door clicked shut behind her.
I dried myself thoroughly with the towel she had dropped earlier, then wrapped it low around my waist. Water still beaded on my shoulders and chest.
I gathered the soaked clothes I had arrived in—coat, shirt, pants, and the damp underwear—into a bundle and stepped out into the hallway.
Fumi was waiting there, holding a neat stack of clean clothes Saki must have provided. The moment she saw me—bare-chested, towel riding low on my hips, wet hair dripping—she fumbled slightly with the bundle in her hands.
A fresh flush rose on her cheeks, though she tried to hide it behind her usual composed expression.
"Here…" she said, extending the clean clothes toward me.
