"Mister Kingsley!" Even though Naomi spoke softly, her words nonetheless cut through the quiet hush of the late evening with an intensity that shocked Richard out of his distracted daze and forced him to take stock of his surroundings for the first time in what felt like a long while. He blinked owlishly as the small lamp came on to reveal the lithe, petite body of his host's younger sister, silhouetted beneath her sheets in a way he desperately wished he didn't notice. He realized with a sudden dismay that he wasn't wearing a stitch of clothing, and his hands moved down to cover his private parts like a character from some bawdy old piece of ribald art.
"Honestly, Mister Kingsley," Naomi huffed, her sparkling blue eyes fixed very firmly on what his fingers completely and utterly failed to conceal. "Did you plan to come in here in the middle of the night and... and take advantage of me, simply on the basis of a few pleasant hours of conversation?" Richard opened his mouth to speak, but the truth was he genuinely didn't know how or why he'd come to be in the willowy blonde's private bedroom; the last he remembered, he was settling into the comfortable bed in the guest quarters on the second floor, grateful for the opportunity to finally put his head down and get some rest after a wearying day of interacting with people far outside his usual social spheres.
He'd obviously been sleepwalking... but from what little he'd heard about somnambulism, it was a lifelong malady, not something developed in the middle of the night in a young lady's bedroom. And even if it was, surely the sudden disappearance of all of his bedclothes wasn't one of the symptoms, was it? "I, I, I... I'm sorry, I must have gotten lost," he stammered, all too aware of the inadequacy of his excuse. ""T-turned around, I mean, in the middle of the night. I, um, I, I only stepped out of my room for a moment--"
Naomi sneered. "And you simply happened to find yourself on the wrong floor, in a young lady's bedroom, completely naked... and, I might add, more than a little tumescent?" Richard felt a furious blush creep across his pale features, almost as much from hearing a member of the upper crust of British society describe his cock as from any awareness he might have had of his own erection. Naomi Harrington-Trace was supposed to be quite sheltered about such matters, but the way she gazed at his stiffening penis almost gave the lie to her indignant tones.
He hushed her rapidly. "I, um, yes, naturally I am aware of the implausibility of such an occurrence, as well as the, the impropriety of the situation," he fumbled out, unable to stop himself from noticing that when Naomi drew the sheet closer around her body it only drew attention to her own lack of any kind of clothing beneath her bedding. "Nonetheless, as absurd as the excuse might seem, it's very much exactly as I said. I'm afraid that between the darkness and the unfamiliar territory, I simply wandered far afield in my confusion. No, um, advantage was intended. I--"
The petite blonde let out a snort of disdain. "That seems like more than merely garden variety confusion," she said, leaning forward slightly and fixing him with a cool, imperious stare. Richard was embarrassed to feel his prick twitching against his fingers as the motion brought Naomi's stiff nipples into direct contact with the sheet. "It seems like you must have been in quite a sincere fog of befuddlement to wind up so lost without even a pair of pajamas to call your own. Tell me, sir, how you managed to find this exact room out of all of them in such a bewildered haze as all that?" Richard desperately wished she would stop fixing him with such an immodest gaze while she spoke. It made him feel strangely vulnerable in a way he couldn't remember experiencing with any other woman.
