Reflexively, I had my hands up. The towel was wrapped loosely around my waist, but other than that I was naked to the world - at least the house. Courtney, under the light of the old-fashioned bathroom, was still in her funeral attire, minus the sport coat. The tight black blouse strained to contain the girl's ripe breasts, the color of which were caramel, from many tanning sessions. The thigh-length skirt still molded to her body and, surprisingly, she was still strapped into her black high heels. Most of her makeup had been washed off, except for the thin mascara that seemed to eternally circle her eyes. And her dark,...