‘I’d…I’d like you to…’ She turned and walked into her bedroom. She had no idea where she’d gotten the nerve to do what she’d just done... Would Martin follow her? She heard a clicking noise, like the latch on her door. Had he left? Or was it the sound of the door locking? Ann stared at the doorway. Was Martin still in her house? Her heart felt as if it was hammering against her ribs. She began taking her clothes off and as she did, she glanced at the bedroom doorway. What she saw gave her a. This fantasy of going to a bar, dressed in my best black dress, silk stockings underneath and my nice red heels. My light hair would be piled on top of my head, in a messy but controlled fashion that would look as if I had spent ten minutes on my hair when really it would have taken an hour or so. Everything about my outfit would scream "I need to fuck." I would find a good looking gent at the bar, dressed in a clean-cut suit. Whether or not he's older or younger than me is irrelevant. So long. More

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