The pale light made it hard to discern whether Evie's face flushed from awkward impropriety or something altogether darker. Richard sat in his chair, hand on knee and clearly prepared to wait for Evie to comply with his demand. What he asked was hardly a burden or hardship -- it just seemed appropriate to complete the wardrobe to his satisfaction. She was there to serve him and his needs, wasn't she? Of course, Richard knew the cheeky line he skirted, and he half expected Evie to storm off; not peeling the scandalous maid outfit from her body until she reached her quarters to pack her belongings and depart for good.<br/><br/>Though, Richard knew that Evie would never do that. More to point .... Evie knew that as well. That was why it came as no surprise that -- instead of telling him to piss off -- so retrieved the leg lingerie. The outrage she fronted was as hollow as her resistance earlier that day. Richard was positive that in her heart, Evie wanted to do as he said; she wanted to be sexy and wanted; she wanted to comply.<br/><br/>Richard stabbed at the filet mignon on his plate and slowly chewed as he regarded his auburn-haired vixen. His eyes widened when she asked her question, taking keen note of her emphasis. She seemed outraged that<i>she </i>had to put them on, rather than having to put them on in the first place.<br/><br/>"Oh yes," Richard answered. "They really go with the outfit, don't you think?" His eyes drifted up her form, admiring the way the outfit hugged her hips and accentuated her bosom. A lewd thought crept into Richard's perverted mind. Could he? Could he fuck Evie twice in one day? He swallowed in excitement, reclining casually.<br/><br/>"But, to answer your question ... either you can put them on, or you can have a seat and<i>I'll</i>put them on for you." The cheeky grin on his smug face could not have been more infuriating.