The next morning, I woke up with a heavy feeling in my chest. The memory of Clara’s body pressed against mine, her hand on my breast and between my legs, kept replaying in my head. I felt ashamed, confused, and strangely warm at the same time. I pushed the thoughts away and tried to act normal.I was sitting by the window reading when there was a soft knock on the door.“Come in,” I said.Clara entered, carrying a tray with tea and fruits. She closed the door behind her and stood there for a moment, looking at me. Her cheeks were slightly pink. She looked different today, nervous but determined.“Mrs. Laurent,” she started, her voice low. “About last night…”I tensed immediately. “Clara, it’s fine. We don’t have to talk about it.”But she stepped closer, placing the tray on the table. Her eyes were fixed on me with a boldness I had never seen in her before.“No,” she said quietly. “I need to say this. When I saw you that night, watching them and touching yourself, I couldn’t stop thin
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