The shower [from her perspective]

Kjerstin paused inside the bathroom, her hands on the ties of her robe as she leaned her head toward the doorway. Seeing the older man in just a towel had been a surprise that made her uncertain. Back home people were fairly casual about their bodies and sexuality, but she'd always heard that Americans were uptight.

"I guess Lester is... what is word? Casual. Casual about sex. No, about naked," she corrected herself, talking softly in english. It was what she told herself she'd do when she finally came to America. She'd be just like them. Dress, talk, act. Well, maybe not act. It was silly how inhibited they were.

She did like how rough they seemed, though. And rap. Back home there were few rappers, and they were all silly. Here they had gangsters. They had men who would fight each other. And guns! She wondered if she might see a gun. Maybe she could ask Lester. All Americans had guns and she'd never seen one.

Forgetting Lester's casual near-nudity she put her toiletries on the counter and slipped off her robe, revealing her naked form beneath.

It was surprising to Kjerstin to find the room so clean and with such a big clear mirror. The apartment was such a little place in such a dirty building and rough neighborhood that she had second thoughts when she saw it.

But Lester had been welcome, enfolding her in a welcoming hug with a kiss to the cheek. He was so casual about it that he reminded her of many Europeans. She didn't even mind that he kept his arm across he shoulders to guide her, or slipped his hand down to her waist to steady her on the stairs.

It was a shame about the elevator being fixed right then, especially with her wear heels, but he'd been a gentleman and carried her cases for her, though it meant him lagging behind a bit under the weight.

Inspecting herself in the mirror she flashed an experimental smile. Her teeth were just as white and straight as they were back home, almost as white as her skin. Maybe while she was here she'd get a tan. Americans loved tans, but back home there wasn't as much sunshine. Yes, maybe she would need to go sunbathing. Lester might know a good spot.

Continuing her inspection she hefted her breasts, proud as always not just of their size but how they continued to keep their shape and remain high and firm. More than once she'd been accused of having had implants, but she merely had to start swinging and bouncing - which she did so now - and they'd be **** to admit that they were real.

"Maybe I find a gym. Maybe I will find a gym," she corrected herself. Grammar. As much as she'd studied English she still forgot words or put them in the wrong order or used the British term instead of the American. It was embarrassing, but she'd do better. For now, though, a shower.

The water was as Lester had told her, neither hot nor cold, but a pleasant medium. She'd have preferred it be hot, but she'd more than once braved cold water back home, and not just for showers. Her eyes strayed to the doorway more than once, conscious of the lack of a lock, but the door remained closed with no sign of Lester.

Kjerstin's body began to relax, and she became more aware of a slight frustration. It had been since before she left Sweden that she'd last masturbated, and she'd been too embarrassed to pack her toys. The possibility of the airlines opening her luggage and spotting them had been too mortifying a thought.

Her hands idly roamed to her large breasts and her plump mound, but she **** them to keep moving. Maybe she would find a shop that sold such toys here. Or maybe she would satisfy herself in her room later at night when she was confident Lester was asleep.

Kjerstin's shower finally ended, her body clean if a bit unsatisfied. She pulled open the clear glass window, though not before using a sponge to wipe it down to prevent mildew.

"Where are the towels?" she asked no one, realizing that Lester must have used the last of them. "Lester!"