My fingers intertwine themselves into his hair and I pull his head away from me and push him onto the desk. “Correction. You want me for sex, Profes...or," I accuse. He opens his mouth but no words come out. He tries to get off the desk but I climb on top of him and straddle him making him immobile. “What?” he finally manages to gargle, somewhat confused and in shock. “You couldn’t take the more traditional route and seduce me. You didn’t have the decency to buy me flowers, take me to dinner, and. There weren't. So, she put the pictures in the envelope and then hid them under the spare tire in the trunk of her car.oOoOn the drive home, Heather's mind raced again. Her husband was absolutely right; she was the epitome of horniness, but he wouldn't know entirely how or why. The combination of the images, anxiety, fury, and a ruined orgasm, was a decadent recipe that fueled her needs. She was an overflowing pot of boiling water. Now behind the wheel, she was a runaway train with a clear. More

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