Apollonia was sulking in her second-floor bedroom, angry at her mother for the tongue-lashing she’d given Apollonia when she was caught in the arms of a young attorney. The irony of it all was that Apollonia had just finished explaining that she didn’t want to see the gentleman anymore, and had agreed that a final kiss was an appropriate goodbye.

Apollonia had been standing near the garage, her arms looped loosely over the attorney’s shoulders as he filled his hands with her breasts, caressing her through her blouse and demi bra. They were kissing comfortably with subdued passion, lovers who had decided to separate, yet still possessed enough gentle emotions that a sensual kiss and a soft caress for old time’s sake was not considered entirely out of line.

That was when Apollonia’s mother arrived home. When she saw the man’s hands on Apollonia’s breasts, her blood began to boil. Idella screamed. She used foul language. She cursed in Greek, English, and even French, though her grasp of the Gallic language was highly suspect. She threatened legal action. And as the young solicitor was driving away, Idella kicked his car.

Idella did not damage the car, though she did succeed in hurting her toe and ankle, and in making herself even more angry. It was the only thing about the entire incident that Apollonia found even a little bit amusing.

Apollonia sat at her makeup table and looked at her reflection in the mirror. Why was it her mother was so dead set against men? That was the question that had plagued Apollonia’s thoughts, and she groaned, because she knew the answer. Apollonia’s father had been a pathetic parent and was an even worse husband. That was what had poisoned Idella on men.

Deciding that she might just as well get into something more comfortable, since she wasn’t going out for an early bite to eat, Apollonia unbuttoned her blouse and tossed it onto her bed. She would have the new maid, Ming, who had been hired just that week, hang the silk blouse up in the closet later. Apollonia was accustomed to making messes of one variety or another, and she had long ago discovered that, for her, there was always someone there to clean up after her. 

Outside, the banging and pounding and high-pitched whine of circular power saws came to a stop. Though Apollonia had not previously given the noise much thought, other than to realize the din was annoying, the abrupt silence registered in her consciousness. Turning her head just enough to peer out of her bedroom window, she saw that a carpenter—a muscular young man in his middle twenties wearing a snug white T-shirt, faded Levi’s, and heavy brown work boots—was working on the garage roof, hammer in hand, and looking into Apollonia’s bedroom.

Apollonia’s first instinct was to scream at the top of her lungs, get the carpenter fired from his job on the spot and then get the owner of the construction company on the telephone to threaten further legal action.

But Apollonia’s second instinct was quite different. The young attorney’s earlier kisses and caresses had fanned the constantly smoldering embers of passion in Apollonia, and though the lawyer was gone, the passion remained. If he wants to look, why not give him something worthwhile to see? 

The bold audacity of the idea was both appealing and shocking to Apollonia. She realized that, nastily, she wanted someone else to suffer with unrequited desires in precisely the same way she did.

Apollonia’s heart began beating faster as she considered the possibilities. Though she was only nineteen, she had long ago realized that there was a strong streak of exhibitionism in her libido. She had always loved being on the dance floor and feeling the eyes of others upon her. 

She turned back to the mirror, her hands resting lightly upon her thighs. There was a buzzing in her brain as she thought about what her next move would be. She could either go in one direction and take off her brassiere, or in the other, and put her blouse back on.

Her hands were shaking a little as she unbuckled the slender belt that encircled her waist. She got off the small rectangular bench that matched the exquisite polished cherrywood of her makeup table, then rose to her feet. Once the belt was loosened, Apollonia released the two waist buttons at her hip, then let the skirt filter slowly down her shapely legs. She stepped out of her skirt and then bent over slowly to retrieve it from her bedroom floor.

Apollonia cast a cautious glance at her bedroom window, and she was pleased to see that the muscular young carpenter was still there looking at her. It would have been devastating to her confidence if he’d turned away before she was finished with her impromptu performance.

Standing now wearing all white lingerie, Apollonia turned toward the wide, high mirror attached to her makeup table.

She preferred wearing white because she had been told by a famous fashion photographer that the color made her dark features even more striking. When paired with the black hair coming down to the middle of her back, a Mediterranean skin complexion, and chocolate brown eyes, white clothes dramatized Apollonia’s exotic features.

Looking at her own reflection, trying to see herself as objectively as possible, Apollonia was more convinced now than ever that the photographer was right. Wearing the white lace-trimmed bra from a famous brand, panties, garter belt, and silk stockings that came to the tops of her thighs, Apollonia was a study in contrasts.