Since that was a little farther away than her place, 'go' meant driving. And since a French dinner wouldn't be a French dinner without wine, 'driving'...meant calling a cab.When the cab had driven off, and the door had closed behind us, without switching on the lights, I take her shoulder in my hand and say "Tell me what you really want. What you usually wouldn't dare ask at a first time. What you wouldn't tell your friends about. What you really, really want. Tell me." She just stands there for. "Fuck me."I fucked her. The clock on the desk had both analog and digital readouts. Watching the analog second hand gliding along urged me on, and every change of the minute display on the digital clock pushed me into another gear. I'd started off with slow, languid strokes, feeling the cushiness of Cassandra's ass meeting my pelvis over and again. But as the minutes counted down, my pace sped up."Five minutes, sir..." Cassandra groaned at length. She was panting, her breath coming in heaving. More

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