Irene woke just as the window could be distinguished from the dark wall.   She was nestled next to Sam, curled against him as the cold night air washed into the room.  Weather change, she mused, looking up to see that the curtains were dancing in a light breeze.<br/><br/>She snuggled back into Sam and smiled.  What would he think of a whore who read the works of Shakespeare?  He hadn't recognized the quote before they fell asleep, but she didn't care.  It had just seemed like something to say.  IRene was still tired and didn't want the sun to rise.  She wanted to close the shutters, but Sam had his arm around her, one hand on her hip.<br/><br/>He'd said that he liked her ass...she laughed to herself because she'd have to be dead not to know that.  He was probably a fan of the new bustle dresses with the skirts so slim and the pouff over the backside so big that a woman bottom looked like the back end of a horse, twitching from side to side as she walked.  Irene didn't mind the dress, but tended to down-play the bustle.  She covered her face realizing she was considering clothes that Sam might like...  She was such a GIRL now.<br/><br/>She yawned slightly and closed her eyes once more, happy to remain where she was, for now.