A Close Shave/Shock/Ask

Sunday morning is for having a lie in. It's hot, so when you eventually roll out of bed, you just slip some shorts on and go down to get some coffee. Eventually, Daisy shows up with that mischievous look on her face that tells you she is up to something, but you wave her off as you compose an email to a customer who is trying to pull a fast one, claiming he didn't know the computer was second-hand.

Daisy clatters about, making toast. She's wearing a rather short nightie, and when she reaches up for the jam, you can see her bare bottom and feel guilty when your cock reacts. This seems to have been happening a lot lately. Sprawling on the floor with nothing but a pair of rather skimpy knickers to cover her modesty. She had even done a Full Monty streak from the bathroom when you were on the landing. It's a bit of a relief when, with one piece of toast on a plate and the other in her mouth, she heads back to her bedroom.

You have just hit "Send" when you hear her call. You get up and go to the bottom of the stairs. "What?"

"Can you come up. I need help with something."

"What's the problem," you say, from her bedroom door.

She's sitting on the edge of her bed with a bath towel spread out over the quilt and some stuff laid out ready for use. It takes you a moment to realise that she has found her mother's old safety razor, a can of shaving foam, and some cold cream. "You know what we were saying about shaving," she says.

"Uhu!"

"Well. I decided that I want to do it, but I'm scared I will cut myself."

"I could get you an electric shaver. They do one specially for ladies," you say. "Or you could go to that new place in the High Street where they do waxing. Maja told me about it." (Maja comes in twice a week to clean).

• I suppose I could
• Eww. No. It sounds real painful