We're trying to dry her dress, of course!

Stacy and I grin at each other as we continue to unbutton Annabelle's soaking wet dress.

"Please, Miss Lucy, Miss Stacy," protests the housekeeper, "I have work to do."

"Now lets be sensible," says Stacy, sensing that perhaps talking in cool logic would be the best approach. "You cannot possibly wear these soaking wet things. We'll just get this soggy dress off, pop it on a radiator and...

"...Hang on a minute. Where are the radiators?" Stacy asks, glancing round the clear walls of the bathroom and out into the equally unencumbered walls of our bedrooms.

"It is underfloor heating," Annabelle replies miserably. We have by this time pulled the top of her soaking wet dress down to her waist.

Stacy and I glance at each other, eyebrows raised. Then squealing with delight, we kick off out shoes, which miraculously did not come off in the fight. And we dance around barefoot on the pleasantly warm floor, hugging each other and wallowing in our good fortune (which we momentarily forget came about as a result of the **** of my parents and the jailing of hers).

"Miss Stacy, Miss Lucy" says Annabelle, pulling up the top of her wet outfit again, "I think I must go and get changed."

"No! wait!" we both cry as one.

OK," continues Stacy as Annabelle pauses, "right... well... we could... uh..."

"There must be some way to dry clothes," I interject, looking to Annabelle for help.

"The airing cupboards are over there," replies the Swiss Miss helpfully, indicating some discreet cupboards along one wall of the bathroom. "It is where the towels are kept", she adds.

"Sorted!" cries Stacy and both of us resume tugging at the housekeeper's starched cotton dress. We have some difficulty getting the stiff wet material past the curve of Annabelle's hip.

Once we do, the dress drops to the floor with a wet slap and Stacy & I gaze at our lingerie-clad victim in awe. Beneath her ice cool exterior, Annabelle has a red-hot bod, but restrained in virginal white lingerie: A white bra both holds and displays an impressive bust; matching white panties are high on the thigh without being tarty. White garter and stockings (what my British friends call stockings and sussies (suspenders)) complete the picture.

Both Stacy and I give a low whistle. Annabelle, seeing our lustful looks, self-consciously covers her crotch and breasts.

"Please misses Stacy and Lucy," she whimpers stepping out of her dress, "this is not helping. Perhaps I should go."

She reaches down for the dress, but Stacy makes a lunge for it too.

"No!" cries the fiery redhead, grabbing at the dress. Then more calmly: "We said that we would help and help you we shall."

With that, Stacy sets off across the neatly tiled bathroom floor, to the cupboards that our housekeeper had indicated. Her soaking wet white sweater hangs incongruously on her, clinging to her equally wet body. The tight black skirt is hitched up to her waist. Her ass is bisected by a the string of a jet black thong. Stacy swings her hips deliberately and provocatively as she crosses the room. I smile to myself as I catch Annabelle following my young cousin with hungry eyes.

Stacy opens each cupboard in turn, eventually finding one that just has a few towels on its middle shelf. Stacy takes these and (deliberately?) bends at the waist, displaying her gorgeous rounded ass as she relocates the towels to a lower shelf. As she does so, she looks back to us and winks. I grin back, but Annabelle turns beet-red and looks away in embarrassment.

Stacy straightens and places Annabelle's neat cotton dress on the middle shelf, carefully folding it to fit.

Then she begins to push her own short tight skirt, with some difficulty, past her curvy ass. As it hits the floor with a splat, she steps out of it and drops it in the cupboard away from Annabelle's dress. Then Stacy turns to face us and begins to lift the hem of her sweater, effortlessly raising it over her head and off; her big gorgeous breasts tumble out and wobble pleasantly. Stacy, clad only in her thong panties, casts her sweater effortlessly into the airing cupboard. Annabelle tries not to stare, looking and grinning weakly at me instead.

"Hey Lucy!" cries my cousin, "you want to get out of your wet things too?"

I need no second bidding. I pull my black sweater up over my head, stretching as I do so. I am also braless, but although my breasts seem small compared with Stacy's, I am pleased to notice that Annabelle is also checking out my lithe toned frame. Discarding the sweater I begin work on the tight black miniskirt. Unfortunately the wet of the bath water ensures that it clings tightly to me.

"Here, let me help," says our housekeeper at last; and the lingerie clad miss steps over, kneels in front of me and begins to help me tug at my **** skirt. In delighted amazement I glance across to Stacy, who grins enthusiastically back and gives me two thumbs up.

As the soaking skirt slides slowly down my thighs, I lean on the beautiful housekeeper for support, the hard nipples of my bare breasts grazing the soft skin of her back.

Finally the skirt is down and I step out of it. I squat down to pick the skirt up, lose my balance momentarily and come face to face with Annabelle. Our lips are almost touching and I wonder if I dare... Or whether that would simply scare her off.

Reluctantly, I straighten up. There is a look in Annabelle's eyes. Is it disappointment?

A moment later the look is gone, but I am pleased to see that she seems to be checking out my long slender legs as I straighten up. I walk over to where my discarded sweater lies. Taking a leaf out of cousin Stacy's book, I bend at the waist, keeping my long legs straight to pick it up. I too have favoured a thong today, but mine is a more demure pale blue, which I hope works well with my blonde locks.

I carry my stuff to the airing cupboards and sling it inside.