At ten past eight, I clattered up the stairs to his apartment, made late by fussing for too long with my hair, nervously applying and blotting and the... re-applying my lipstick, and studying my legs in the mirror as I put on my stockings, adjusting the suspender belt and ensuring the seams were perfectly straight. I wanted to impress him. I reached his door and found it unlatched, so I knocked lightly and then let myself in, as he had instructed. “Hello?” Silence. My heels clicked along the hall. "I've been thinking about sex for, oh, about the last five years at least. And sex with you came exploding into my mind last night as a reality. Before that, I'd only fantasized about it." This is so wrong in so many ways." His thumb rubbed over the top of my erection and I groaned again. Not real sure when I'd stopped struggling, all I knew was that it had happened. "We d-don't even like each other, you masochist!" Oh, I don't know, right about now I'd say you like me a whole lot." He squeezed. More

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