When the door opened, a naked torso faced Clarice. Not just any old torso, but a hot, muscled, six-pack naked torso. She blinked and blinked, and then she blinked some more. She couldn't understand why a grown man would be wearing a towel, just a single white, fluffy towel wrapped around his waist, to answer the door.

He was leaning against the doorframe, one hand supporting his tall, lean, muscular body that, Clarice noted, any female would want in her bed, including her. Not that she'd bedded any male, of course, since she was still a bloody virgin, for God's sake.