A black leather garter belt, black satin panties, and a demicup bra. What do you think of that?"I let her stew for a second. "I'm thinking of what you...would look like, wearing that." Well?" I think you'd look good enough to...eat." And to fuck, I hope." There she went again. At work and publically, she was always so ladylike and proper. And now, on the phone, having what I devoutly hoped was a private conversation, she was telling me that she was dressed like a slut and using words like "fuck.". That was too much stimulating to stand, as this got to its momentum. I got totally inhibited and modesty was no longer something I could rely on. I felt like if grass tea had been passed around freely in a party, instead of coffee. Suddenly, I felt something wet on one foot, so I opened my eyes to find out what it was: Michael was kissing it, he then moved on to the other one. I didn't know what to do, if to complain, but wished this to continue endlessly. I think I was already longing for. More

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