. ?" Transference," Robert postulated. "Malcolm is very empathetic. He feels your anxiety and sexual tension, and he wants to help." There's a familia... smell, a fragrance," Malcolm held up his hand to silence Robert as he sniffed the air and looked up at Beverley. "It's tangy with a hint of citrus ... tangerine, maybe. It's very familiar. I just can't place it." He glanced at Beverley's athletic legs and pictured their juncture before turning his attention to Robert when his companion began. His schoolmate, who sat on his right, had told him to make a large hole in his right pocket, big enough to get your hand through it and roam around unhindered. The next time they had their history notebooks on the desks and were leaning over them in a semblance of industry he felt his friend's hand creep into his pocket, and he opened his thighs to accommodate what was certain to come next. The fingers gently found their way up to the waistband of his white pants, hesitated a moment, and then. More

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