After reaching a brownstone on a narrow side street in the Village, Marilyn double checked her directions for the address. "This doesn't look like it....I somehow expected more," she thought to herself. She tried to calm herself down, then nervously walked up the steps and ran the required bell. After a bit of a wait, a slightly tall White woman of about 30 answered the door."Hello? Are you Marilyn? It's me, Stacey, the photographer."Vaguely lost in thought, Marilyn quickly came to her senses and. A minute or two passed, she walked into the room with a petticoat tied till her breasts.She must have had a cold water head bath. She hurriedly walked into the house, shivering, with wet hair, and her flawless skin dripping golden water droplets all over. Her waist length hair, flowing on her firm breasts is still wet and soaked her thin petticoat making it almost transparent, and her dark nipples and aureole are clearly visible. She picked up a towel from the wardrobe walked to the dressing. More

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