He seems a nice enough old man and not a lecherous pervert

Rachel whirled with a gasp to find the owner of the voice. Her mind told her to run but her freezing skin ordered her to stay. Besides, the elderly man she saw looking down at a small Jack Russell Terrier seemed kind of harmless and wasn't actually looking at her anyway.

"Uh, should he be doing that?" she asked, peeling a hand away from her body far enough to point at the dog, which had lifted its leg and begun to piss off the edge of the balcony.

"Should you be naked?" he retorted, and she snapped her hand back and nodded.

"Good point."

"You a nudist?"

"What? Ah, no... my shower's out of warm water."

"Ah yes. That'd be all those guests of yours using it up. Or maybe the landlord cut it off. Or it's broken. Who knows. Piece of shit building," he grumbled as Rachel's face turned red at the reminder of the guys she'd no doubt entertained.

"You know, if you're freezing you'd warm up a lot faster if you'd stop huddling like that."

"No thanks," she responded automatically, certain he was trying to see her naked.

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, still looking down at the tiny dog with the elephant-sized bladder. "But right now you're covering up so much of your body the sun's only drying the water on your arms, and it's your core you need to heat up. Your arms are just keeping that in shadow."

Rachel blinked and nodded at the man's words. The sun did feel incredibly good against the skin it was touching, and she still felt incredibly cold. Besides, he hadn't even looked at her yet.

Reluctantly, Rachel shyly lowered her arms, closing her eyes in pleasure as the sun's heat immediately sank deep into her chilled skin.

"Name's Billy, by the way. Billy Wilkins. William Wilkins, actually, but you can imagine how being called Willy Wilkins wasn't my favorite thing as a boy."

"I'm..." Rachel opened her eyes to respond and yelped as she saw him extending his hand toward her, his face turned her way. She yelped and covered up again.

"Rather shy for an exhibitionist, aren't you?" he chuckled.

"I'm not an exhibitionist!" she protested.

"No? But you came out here without any clothes on."

"I told you, I was cold!" you argued, jutting her lip out sulkily.

"You could've stopped inside and gotten most of the same warmth," he said, then shrugged. "Suit yourself, you're not an exhibitionist. So what are you?"

"I'm a bikini model!" she proclaimed proudly, straightening and unconsciously adopting a Wonder Woman pose.

"So you are an exhibitionist!" he proclaimed.

Rachel's mouth popped open in outrage and she leaned forward to give him a piece of her mind.

"I am not!"

"Well your work involves you walking around in public with your hooters and ass hanging out for everyone to see. I'd say that takes an exhibitionist to do something like that."

"Well it doesn't! It's a professional atmosphere and the shots aren't nude and I do it for money, not pleasure!"

"Uh-huh. Well, I take it back. I think you're lying."

Rachel took an outraged step forward, nudity forgotten in her outrage. "Oh yeah? And why do you think that?" she challenged.

"Because you've got a big fat bush down there," he said, pointing to her crotch.

Rachel's eyes and mouth popped open at the same time, and a moment later she was back to clutching her arms over her breasts and crotch, hunched over to hide as much as possible.

Billy started laughing, leaning against the rail to support himself, his dog yapping and running around his feet as if feeling left out. Rachel stared as the man's face went red and he leaned farther and farther out over the railing as if his arms had gone weak.

Afraid that he'd topple over the edge she lunged forward, grabbed his shoulder and tried to pull him back. All she managed to do was turn him toward her and his grey-haired head wound up between her breasts. She yelped, trying to pull away at the unexpected intimacy, but the laughing man had grabbed her hands as if letting go would make him fall the eight stories to the ground, and Rachel found herself **** to have a man's face buried between her boobs.

"I... I don't see what's so funny," she protested weakly, and the man let go of wrist to wipe his eyes, incidentally brushing the back of his arm against her chest. She pulled away as he let go of her other wrist, though he continued to lean on the edge of the balcony between them.

"You... you don't see it..." he gulped in a lungful of air. "You don't see a problem, wearing itty-bitty scraps of cloth over that Amazon F...." he started laughing again.

Rachel's face turned red with embarrassment but she couldn't help but look down at herself. Yes, her auburn bush had grown since they'd auditioned as models, but she'd been too busy to trim it like she usually did. Cecilia, on the other hand, kept hers as a small tuft of blond hair she called a 'landing strip'.

Grimacing, Rachel turned away, wondering if it would be impolite for her to go inside. Maybe she could find her toiletry kit and shave her legs, trim herself a little. Or just find the coffee maker, computer and clothes so she could start the job search. Or of course she could get a professional to do her down there, but the idea of someone else doing that made her feel kind of weird.