His eyes returned to Clara. She stood now in her prime — the panty, white cotton, the hairy pussy visible through the fabric. The dark curls of pubic hair — unshaved, natural, the body of a young woman who had never had reason to groom — pressed against the cotton. The outline of her slit was visible — the puffy, virgin lips, the cleft between them.
She covered her breasts with her arms. Her pussy with her hands. The shyness — the last-minute, 'I-am-naked-in-front-of-a-man' shyness — hit her.
But she kept talking. Praising him.
"He solved the plague," Clara said. Her voice was stronger. The praise gave her courage. "The drought. The—"
Nora's eyes fluttered. The confusion on her face deepened. She gasped.
"What?" the demoness said. "This bastard did? No. You humans are just evil. He—"
"He is our lord," Clara said. Simple. Definitive.
