"Good." He loosed her and stepped away, stepping around her and towards the end bathroom. "Come along, then." He added, but not until he was at the door. He vaguely wondered what she might have done had he not invited her, unsure whether she would have followed anyway or dithered uncertainly; the thought of the latter made him smile, and turn to watch her catch up. His gaze took in her slightly sore chest at first, but soon rose to her face.<br/><br/>The bath passed without incident. Quentin had her soap and scrub him, then lounged in the water while she washed herself. The only change was him idly informing her about the workshop they were due to visit, and how his great uncle had originally built it before it passed to his father, and then him. There were more details on the changes and technological improvements made by his father and himself, of which Quentin was both proud and enthusiastic, but in truth they were not particularly interesting to much of anyone. Were Quentin talking to an equal he might have held back on mentioning them at all, but with Zoey she had no choice but to listen, regardless of what he said.<br/><br/>She finished up and he slipped from the bath, passed her a towel and dried himself with another. His good mood seemed to continue and he was treating her well. Back to the bedroom though and he started to dress, but warned her in a firm manner not to do so herself. She was left to stand there, then, for as long as it took him to dress himself and smooth his shirt; the only exception being when he told her to do his shirt buttons, so that he might comb his hair in the meanwhile.<br/><br/>Then he turned to her, and her outfit. He turned a great, 2 meter mirror towards her and placed her in front of it. "Your opinion, while you dress, please. If you can suggest improvements I am all ears; I am rather glad to say that fashion rather passes me by. Here." He passed her the shirt first, then worked down her body, giving her one piece at a time.<br/><br/>Before she had fully pulled the stockings on, indeed when she bent down to do so, he called out calmly for her to stop. Before she could really register he stepped forward and put one hand around her bruised, tender backside, and squeezed it just slightly. His other hand rested on her back, keeping her doubled up, though he remained gentle and easy. "Does it hurt very much? It looks a state..." He let her answer then, with no hint about whether he meant to follow up on the new query or not, asked: "If I said I wished to spank it again, what would you reply?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>