The doorbell rarely rang, and almost never after nightfall. The house was somewhat isolated, off the mountain road, not far from the highway but around enough curves that you had to be trying to get there. Packages were usually delivered in the daytime, and the housekeeper was there then. So he didn't often answer his own door.
When he did open the polished wood door, he found a young woman, shivering and soaking wet, almost certainly a student from the small girls-only college in town at the base of the mountain. It had been raining steadily for a while, another reason why most people wouldn't be out right now.
"Can I help you?" he asked.
"I'm so sorry to bother you," she stammered. "My car ran off the road back there, because of the rain, and it's stuck in the ditch. My phone doesn't have a signal here, and this was the first house I found. Can I use your phone?"
He looked her over. She was stunningly pretty. Long, dark blonde hair hung down past her shoulders, large, doe eyes, and bright pink lipstick. She was wearing a white scoop neck t-shirt, a short cutoff denim skirt, and sandals. She certainly wasn't dressed to be walking down mountain roads in the rain. The t-shirt was thin and, wet as it was, hid absolutely nothing, beginning with the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her nipples stood out erect, and goosebumps covered her arms.
"Of course. Please come in," he said, swinging the door wide.
"Thank you," she said as she stepped inside.
The foyer was large and filled with tasteful carpets and dark wood furniture. Everything, from the artwork to the appliances, spoke of success and someone who was used to having only the best.
"Let me get you a towel," he said, disappearing down a hall. A moment later, he was back with a large, luxurious towel. It was soft and fluffy, and she gratefully rubbed it on her hair and torso. He was older than her, with well-trimmed light brown hair, no beard, and a strong chin. He was wearing a dress shirt and slacks, crisp and impeccably tailored. His was watching her intently, but she was shivering too much to notice his gaze.
As she started to wrap the towel around herself, he held out his hand and said, "I'll get you a fresh one." She hesitated a moment, then handed the towel to him. He disappeared again. She was drier, but not dry, and her shirt still clung to her. He came back with a new towel identical to the first, and she again patted herself with it, bending over to rub her legs as well this time. When she straightened up, he said, "If you give me your shirt, I'll put it in the dryer and get you a dry one to wear." He held out his hand.
She froze, but she didn't want to be rude when he had been so nice, and besides, she was still shivering. On the other hand, he hadn't said anything about letting her use a bathroom or anything to change. She turned her back and pulled the t-shirt over her head, then quickly wrapped the towel around herself. She handed the shirt to him, and he took it and disappeared again.
He came back almost at once, but, this time, his hands were empty.
"Oh, silly me," he said, with a self-deprecating grin, "I forgot to bring you a shirt. I'll get you one, but since I'm going, let me take that wet towel." She hesitated again, but he had been so nice. She slowly unwrapped the towel and held it out to him. He took it and turned down the hall, leaving her standing there, arms crossed over her small, firm breasts.
