" "Old my ass. You're at your prime! And no one said anything about fucking everything out there with a dick and two legs. Just one good looking guy f...or you to get your rocks off. Honey, you haven't slept with anyone outside of The Douche in 10 years." She had a point. With his work schedule and mine, our sex life, when we had one, was stale. And since he's left, well... there just isn't one. I didn't even remember when the last time I came was. Eight weeks and several shopping excursions with. Where is that anyway? Never mind.’ the girl was adamant on the other end of the line. She’d sat through a half hour of some sob story of Lacey being swept off her feet by some cowboy or another. She couldn’t stand to be quiet anymore. ‘You’ve known the guy what… a week? Be practical Lizzy. Nothing happens in a week. God. If it did, I would’ve been married a dozen times over by now. Listen. Get on your plane, come back home, and we’ll sort all this out, okay? We’ll sit down over Starbuck’s and. She was close to tears, but would not let the schoolmaster know, of course. A series of only four straps had brought her to the precipice of delighted, anguishing ecstasy and fondly remembered torturous pain. She allowed herself the luxury of blissful emtyheadedness and writhed along the bar. Her legs closed slightly to ward off the furious wrath she longed for, at the same time allowing her wetness to gather itself and creep into the golden haired bush and back down the length of her tanned. "It's good, Michael. I hope this is all right for you. It's not what you are used to, I expect. It's not been like this for me since ... well, a long time. Too long." I wondered what memory she was chasing from her past. Clearly not of Spencer. I remembered the two years she had spent in industry before she turned to teaching. Had somebody then discovered her innermost desires and taken them to the limit? No wonder Spencer, for all that he was a devoted husband, left her.