Foster
So, he sits quietly, book shut in hand.
“You’re not going to give it up, are you?"
“No.”
“Go on,” He opens his book again, though I can see him peering over the top of it. I think he’s sure I’m a little too shy to just strip him of his pants on my own initiative—in part, I am. But I’ve committed, now. And he’s got to know that if I am anything, it’s stubborn. So, I slip my fingers beneath the waistband as he’s done many times with me now. Make sure I’ve got my fingers in his briefs, as well. And stare eagerly behind his book. He shouldn’t see a woman gawking so eagerly. It’s improper. Unnatural.
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