And then I think. Sometimes it’s the guy I had a huge thing for in high school. Sometimes it’s my ex, he was great at head (I taught him everythi...g he knows). But often times, I like teachers. Something about a guy that reads a lot just gets me going. I picture him drinking coffee with scruff and a dress shirt. He’s got a book in his hands and glasses on his nose. He’s hot because he’s intelligent. He’s older than me but not enough that we don’t share experiences. That’s when my hands start. ‘Wait, please, wait … I meant nothing by it. I was not trying to harm you in any way.’ They both fell silent at what they could hear, low but distinct, from behind the door to the tiny alcove-room where Daisy slept. Stifled moans and cries, and a steady creaking. Greta’s red face darkened toward purple. Constance donned a wide-eyed look, trying to mask the jealousy she felt. Just then, the outer door opened and a man came quietly in with a lantern. He stopped short as he saw the fully-clothed. More

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