"Okay."I was skating around it. She's infinitely patient.I took a big breath, trying to get my mouth under control. "I had gym today." Okay." And in t...he showers I saw something." Mmmm hmmm." I knew she made those little encouraging noises to show she was listening. She doodled something on the lined pad in front of her."I mean aside from the usual stuff. Do you know Ashley Wilkes? She's a sophomore." I know of her. Cheerleader. Sweet kid, no problems as far as I know, except her mother must. My God, this could be it! I nodded, breathing a bit more heavily, and she continued asking me questions as she went around the room, locking doors and closing shades.“Single? Got a condom? You don’t have to.” She basically blurted.“Uh, yes, no, and I’ll do it.” I blushed.“Me too, I have the day-after pill, good.” She grinned. She took a deep breath and stood in front of her desk, tracing her finger along it. Only now did I really analyze her attire. A plain white blouse, red skirt, and black. Time passed and as his boss taught him routine was everything, routine in Amy’s life and Jim’s was what gave Jim the opportunity for him to enjoy his Saturday mornings on the internet living out his dream, a dream that he believed would never become a reality. It was routine that gave Jim his Saturday morning fantasies. But for all good things, we must pay a price and the price that Jim paid every Saturday afternoon was Amy questioning him endlessly on why he never seemed to achieve anything on. She wanted desperately to be used like a slut. To be treated as nothing more than a sexual object. Previous lovers had failed to grasp this simple fact and had cared for her desires, not understanding that her desire was for her desire to be ignored. We never understood whether her current lover understood this tautological paradox and acted it out almost to perfection or simply genuinely didn't care whether my wife was enjoying herself or not. Either way, it didn't matter. The fact is it was.