The following fictional story is being reposted by Mr Double.  If you are the author of this story and would like to receive proper recognition (an Author's Page at my website), contact me at mrdouble@ix.netcom.com.






Subject: UnhlyDes (2/7) "An Unholy Desire" 

     "Yes, then I'll get right at it," Ann heard herself say, while 
intensive, if timorous, excitement, gripped her as she followed him into 
the coat room.
     "You ... you've got typing paper in your desk.  I saw it when you put 
your typewriter cover in there," he hissed, his breathing short and raspy 
as he stared at her.
     "I-I know ..." Ann whispered, moving toward him, so tight inside she 
thought something was surely going to burst!  Everything that her middle-
aged husband had ever recorded concerning promiscuous wives made itself 
available like a sensual reference library in her erotically determined 
brain!  She raised her arms with obvious intent, letting her fingers 
pressure against his broad shoulders, then mindlessly ease around his neck 
while he stood as if immobilized into a helpless numbness.  "I-I know 
...!" she huskily repeated.
     "J-Jesus Christ!" he choked, his strong arm wrapping around her 
slender waist and drawing her tightly against him, his handsome mouth 
hungrily finding her warm, tongue moistened lips in an ardent soul kiss!  
She let her own little tongue wetly greet his, her incited brain reeling 
as she enveloped him with the resilient fullness of her breasts, soft 
belly and hot thighs, urging the erogenous swell of her yielding fleshy 
mound against the lengthy bulge of his thickly aroused hardness.  The 
passionate sensation of its solid, masculine feel whipped her breath away!
     "Y-You're beautiful!" he hoarsely panted, smoothing his big hands 
lustfully over the rounded swell of her buttocks.  "Y-You were showing 
your breasts out there to me on purpose, weren't you?"
     "Y-Yes ...!  D-Did you like what you saw?"
     "Good God, who wouldn't?"
     His words were hot, gasping breaths against her face, the heat of his 
strong, sensitive hands penetrating through the knit of her dress to the 
tensed ovals of her rounded buttocks!  It'd gone just as she'd hoped ... 
her bit of lewd exhibitionism ... but now, what?  God, this was no time to 
get panicky, or suddenly have second thoughts!  Yet ...?
     "Well ...?" he insisted.  "When can we get together, you little ball 
of fire?  You want it real bad, I can tell that.  Is this work getting to 
you, honey?"
     "Ooooohhhh ... I-I don't know!" she tremulously whispered.  "But ... 
I do want to, darling ...!"
     "Damn, you really mean that, don't you?" he croaked, his breathing 
filling the cluttered little room with short, sizzling sounds.
     For an answer, Ann uncontrollably pressured even tighter against him, 
almost imperceptibly undulating her desire-filled, soft belly, loins and 
thighs with suggestive fervency against his hardened, rhythmically 
throbbing cock.  A scene from a men's magazine she'd found in her father's 
underwear drawer raced through the archives of her sensually intoxicated 
mind and like the young wife in the story who was desperately trying to 
seduce her reluctant neighbor, she passionately kissed him on the lips, 
then began to tickle the end of his handsome nose with the tip of her hot, 
wet little tongue.
     "Ummmmggghhhhh ..." he huskily groaned, his heated hands stroking 
downward to the backs of her nyloned thighs, then up in under her tiny 
skirt to tease the smooth flesh of them above her stockings, and finally 
to caress and cup the rounded fullness of her flimsily covered buttocks!  
His wetly fevered mouth smothered her own as she sensually returned as 
much as he gave, eagerly lashing tongues with him, while his finger tips 
descended, tracing the deep crevice separating the tensed mounds of her 
ovalled, near naked buttocks.  Then, one outstretched thick finger was 
worming its way between her trembling, full thighs from behind, the erotic 
sensation causing her to gasp out!  Suddenly through her panties, she felt 
its wanted hot pressure against the desire-dampened mouth of her cunt, and 
an electric current rippled through her as it tried to wriggle inside the 
moistened, narrow crotch-band.
     "No ... no, darling, not here!" the hotly aroused young wife 
whispered, locking her strong, full thighs like a fleshy vise over his 
probing hand to hamper his frantic operation.  "Please... what if Carl 
should walk in?  Please ... it's too dangerous with him right out there in 
the other office!" she insisted, her sultry blue eyes searching his while 
she reached behind her and gently disengaged his lewdly exploring fingers.  
Then, pressing the hardened tips of her proud young breasts against his 
chest, she reached beyond him to the top shelf and began tearing open a 
ream of paper.
     "What the hell are you doing, Ann?"
     "We're in here getting paper, remember, Doctor?" she flirted.
     "Oh, my God, I forgot.  You're something else, girl, believe me ..."
     And then the frustration of last night's disappointing lovemaking 
came over her.  "Please don't tease me ..."
     "Me?  Teasing you?  Oh, that's really funny, Ann!  Who the hell is 
teasing who?" he hotly questioned, trying to draw her back tight to him, 
while she wedged her hands against his chest as a buffer.  Then, in 
defense of his actions, he quickly added, "Believe me, if Carl wasn't in 
the same office right now, I'd ... I'd ...!"
     "You'd what?" she excitedly pressed, wanting to hear him say it.
     "Well, you know.  Don't play coy with me.  I'm a doctor, remember?  I 
do research on sex, I know what I would do ..."
     "You'd fuck me right here?" the intensively fired Ann lewdly finished 
for him in an intimate whisper, the four letter word never sounding more 
exciting to her, or to him, as it obscenely tumbled from her lush lips at 
that moment.  "I-is that what you were going to say?"
     "Couldn't have put it more aptly, you luscious creature!" he cawed, 
his lust-inflamed dark eyes reflecting the depth of the jolt her use of 
the graphic word had triggered inside him.  He gushed a hot draft of 
breath against her face, his eyes gleaming with a frenzy.  "When, Ann?  
After work?  After lunch?  When?"
     "Wait a minute, not so fast.  We have a report to get out, remember?" 
Ann reflexively countered, something in the nature of apprehension 
clutching at her within.  She took the ascot from his breast pocket to dab 
away the smear her darkly tinted lipstick had left on his mouth.  It was a 
stall for time, her mind racing in a melee of confusion.  "B-Better throw 
this hanky away," she said, tucking it back into his pocket.
     "What ... what about after work?  My wife won't be home til later 
tonight since she has a late class ..."
     "What about work?" she interrupted, in God's name, never knowing why, 
unless that was a woman's natural reaction and subconsciously placing 
herself in the position of his vivacious young wife whom she'd only met a 
couple of times.
     He stared at her open-mouthed, part of the expression on his handsome 
face and in his tormented eyes enough to make her want to climb right up 
on the shelf for him!  Ohhhhh ... she was really hot -- it was a wonder 
that her tiny, thin panties didn't disintegrate.  Maybe they had!  Still, 
she couldn't deny the forces, whatever their source, that were restraining 
her, and she'd never realized how devoted to her work she'd been before.  
Or did it have something to do with allegiance to her dear husband Carl, 
who, at this very minute was dully plodding over his work.
     "What the hell!  Forget about work for a change, okay, Ann?  This 
affair between you and me has nothing to do with work, and personally, I 
need a little time off now and then ...  Besides ..." he added in a 
calculated aside, "you can't tell me the subject of this research has 
nothing to do with your condition ..."
     Before he could finish or she could answer, Carl's voice boomed from 
the other room.  "How about somebody in there making me a cup of coffee?"  
With bated breath, they listened to him pacing back and forth, maybe 
shuffling through the files on her desk and lay open and waiting for 
attention.
     "How about it?  After work?" George pressed in an urgent whisper.
     "N-No, I have to finish that work and get it to the photocopier.  You 
said so yourself ... isn't that right?" Ann defensively answered, hardly 
knowing what she meant by those words.
     "Work? ... Christ, girl, what's wrong with you, anyway?  You're 
hotter than a pistol one minute, and the next you want to put me off for a 
Xerox machine.  What's the deal?"
     "Hey, anybody in there?"  It was Carl's voice, louder and more 
insistent than before.  "We've got work to get done out here in case you 
haven't forgotten!"
     "Oooooohhhhh ... I-I shouldn't have let you touch my ...!" Ann 
covered her face with her hands in humiliation.
     "The hell with that shit!  W-What are you, a cock tease?" he spat at 
her.  "You come tripping in here behind me with those big tits of yours 
hanging out, show me your breasts with your husband standing in back of 
you, then tell me that you have to work tonight.  What's the matter?  
Aren't you getting enough in bed these days?  Isn't that great sex 
researcher enough for you?"
     The venom in his biting words burned into the young wife like eating 
acid, and she backed away from him with tears brimming up into her big, 
round eyes!  God!  What had gone wrong!  It had all seemed so innocent and 
fun and then ... suddenly ... it wasn't so much fun anymore.  Oooohhh ... 
she'd truly blown it ... blown it, damn it!  And now she'd have to sit 
next to him all day remembering how lewdly she'd flirted with him.
     "Hey, I'm sorry, Ann," George's mellifluous voice calmed her and she 
felt her self-confidence soar from a minus one to a plus two.  "It's just 
that you got me so carried away.  I-I was disappointed, that's all."
     "Hey!  Are you two coming out of there or is there something you're 
looking for and can't find?  If you're looking for the instant coffee it's 
on the shelf behind the tea pot," Carl's voice reached out, a tone of 
uptightness barbing it.
     Ann moved forward, quickly reaching for the ream of bond paper; she 
daintily wiped at her eyes as George said: "Look, we have to work next to 
each other all day, so let's forget about this till another time, okay?"
     The voluptuous, long-haired blonde wife didn't look at him.  She knew 
that if she did she'd probably end up in the back seat of her Volkswagen 
at lunch time, fucking her husband's colleague till he blew the sun roof 
off her car.  God, she'd never been any hotter, or closer to spreading her 
legs in her life!  "Yes, Dr. Everett, I think it's a good thing we get 
back to work."
     "Goddamn it, listen to me ... wait ... wait!" Ann heard him choke 
behind her as she brushed past him out into the outer office, every fiber 
of her alive with sensual excitement.
     From the other side of the door Dr. Everett could hear Ann's 
solicitous words to her husband.  "I'm so sorry, dear, we were looking for 
the bond paper.  Oh, we have so much to do, but I promise you can depend 
on me to get it done."
     A brief silence during which he imagined a give-away glance shooting 
in his direction ...  or was she kissing Dr. Dexter just as she'd been 
kissing him?  "The water is boiling for your coffee," he heard her lie, 
wondering just what kind of a woman his middle-aged colleague married.



Chapter 3

     Ann sat nervously at her typewriter, her fingers poised and trembling 
above the keys as the electric machine's constant whirring noise seemed to 
reverberate around in her confused and tortured mind.  God, there was so 
much to be done and although she generally worked best under pressure, 
this particular day was a very difficult one for the voluptuous young 
blonde.  Her mind was a jigsaw puzzle whose pieces were scattered all over 
the floor waiting to be put back together again.  Confused and nagging 
emotions fought against one another in her tormented mind; feelings and 
desires she never knew she could experience battled against one another 
and her thoughts seemed to have a dozen different sources at one.
     After she'd gotten Carl off her back by shoving a steaming cup of 
coffee in his hands, she'd had to work with Dr. Everett breathing down her 
neck, intermittently brushing his hand on her leg up and down her thigh 
till she thought she'd go bananas for sure.  Finally, as if by an act of 
God, Carl had called him into the back office for a weekly conference to 
plan the activities for next week.
     "Damn!" she hissed under her breath as she made the third typo on 
that first line of the page.  All thumbs, she felt her neck muscles tense 
and freeze in position.  That would never do, she thought with gut hurting 
anguish.  I can't boggle this work just because of some young stud.  And 
as if her physically handicapped condition was not enough to cloud her 
mind, everything she typed had something to do with sex.  God, it was 
driving her crazy!
     She winced in anguish, still feeling the touch of Dr. Everett hotly 
slithering up and down her body.  God, how stupid could one get?  Pretty 
rotten, she inwardly seethed, sick at the thought of having him, that 
gorgeous hunk of man, right in her eagerly yearning little hands, then 
frittering away her hold through girlish reluctance.  Damn, she'd never 
intended they be any more than lovers, an affair, maybe.
     For what seemed like minutes, she stood there staring blindly out of 
the window, watching students spill out of the building across the street.  
Some stoop shouldered, disappointed and grim, others half skipping with 
the bounce of springtime in their airy steps.  For a brief she imagined 
where she would be, what she would be doing, and whether she would be 
happy had she not married Dr. Carl Dexter.  A stewardess flying to 
Australia, maybe?  A model on the cover of Vogue?
     "Uh, Mrs. Dexter, could you come in the office for a minute," Dr. 
Everett's voice interrupted her wildly, dizzily spinning thoughts.
     "Yes, of course, right away," Ann answered, reaching down to pick up 
the file folder.
     "No, you won't need that," Mrs. Dexter," he said coldly, and then she 
knew she'd blown it!  Without so much as a smile, he turned his back and 
disappeared into the wood-walled interior of her husband's office.  Was 
this a joke?
     Ann followed the tall doctor, her knees quaking, her hands still 
trembling, her full, fleshy thighs tremulously shaking, her full breasts 
quivering beneath her short knit dress as her chest heaved with heavy 
breathing.  Once inside the office, Ann seated herself on the chair by the 
desk, directly opposite Dr. Everett who sat frowning over a series of ten 
pages that Ann had finished typing about half an hour earlier.  The full 
breasted young blonde crossed her legs demurely and folded her hands 
across her lap to stop from trembling, then waited patiently for Dr. 
Everett to say whatever he had to say, hoping for dear life it had nothing 
to do with what had happened that morning.
     "Uh, Mrs. Dexter," he began awkwardly obviously finding it difficult 
to get to the point, "this is ... uh, the pages you typed this morning 
...?"
     "Yes, Dr. Everett."  There was no trace of intimacy, let alone 
familiarity between them now; all business, the way it should have been 
those fateful hours earlier.
     "I'm afraid there are a lot of mistakes you're going to have to 
correct before we can have these pages copied ... some glaring errors that 
are very unlike you, Mrs. Dexter.  Look here," he concluded, pushing the 
papers across the desk toward her.
     Ann looked at the typewritten page on the top.  Five or six 
extraordinary obvious mistakes seemed to jump off of the white paper at 
her, almost as if they were pointing accusing fingers at the helplessly 
quaking wife.  "Oh, I'm so sorry, Dr. Everett.  I really am.  I ... I'm 
... I'll fix it right away, of course.  I'm... so sorry."
     "I know this isn't like you, Mrs. Dexter," George's voice softened.  
"But we are in a terrible rush, as you know ... so if you could take care 
of them, it would be greatly appreciated."
     "Oh yes," the distraught young woman cried.  "I don't know what's 
wrong with me, I've been all thumbs today."
     "Well, why don't you take what you have done and make three copies 
down the street at the Instant Press."  Finished he returned to his work, 
as if nothing had happened between them that morning.
     In minutes, Ann had corrected the mistakes and a half hour later she 
was headed out the door, file folder in hand.
     Even as she walked the short distance to the Instant Press, she could 
concentrate on little else but her handsome co-worker and the way she had 
stupidly bungled the whole thing -- not only this morning by telling him 
she couldn't meet him, but by making all those typos!  Of course, she 
could have gotten finished in time for a friendly after-dinner drink!  
Carl had never questioned her in that respect, whatever story she came up 
with, and most times it was just to get a break away from him and take in 
a movie, or a quiet relieving walk.  Damn ... was it too late?  She could 
go back later and set it up for tonight.  God knows, she was still that 
sensually excited ... but no!  No, she wasn't about to do that for any 
man!  If ... if only she could cool down a little bit!  She was actually 
wet, wet between her legs, and no one but Dr. George Everett had done 
that!  But dammit, she wasn't about to go back and beg ... never!
     Oh, what was the address of that damned place?
     At one point, while crossing the street, the sexually frustrated 
young wife almost tripped over a rut in the sidewalk street, and her 
papers went flying all over the intersection!  Great!  All she needed was 
to go back and say, "Sorry, guys, but I just lost your report!"  Oh, that 
would go over really well.  If it hadn't been for the older man next to 
her who managed to catch all but two pages, she'd have been an ex-
secretary.  As it was, she had half glanced behind her to see him 
observing the spectacle she was thoughtlessly offering him in her bent-
over position.  Though she had immediately straightened and turned to 
glare at him, despite his life-saving catch, his elderly, lecherous smirk 
as she walked on past her only seemed to add unneeded fuel to the already 
glowing bed of coals smoldering in the hot, fluid hearth of her.
     When she finally found Instant Press, a small building set off from 
the street brightly decorated in red, white and blue, she discovered that 
only the errand boy was there to fill her order.
     "The boss'll be back later, lady -- it'll be about two hours, I'd 
say.  But if you want I'll be happy to fill it for you.  Three copies you 
say?"
     "That's right ... oh, is there any chance you could deliver this to 
my house?  You see, lad, this is a dire situation I'm in, and it would 
save my life ... my job at least if you could get this order to my house 
later today."  Emphasizing her helplessly needful situation, she leaned 
her elbows on the counter in a weary gesture, perhaps to egg him on.  She 
could tell after she'd bent down to fill out the order form that his 
youthfully bugging blue eyes had briefly fed o the unexpected, engaging 
sight.  His good looking teenage mouth was agape, his smooth, fair cheeks 
a flushed crimson.
     Lord, it was absolutely absurd to work one's self into such a lewd 
state, she berated herself teasingly.  But she couldn't help it, either 
... there was something erotically exciting about it, being caught up in 
such a lascivious mood right out in public ... before God and everyone and 
in broad daylight.
     "I'll have this to you as soon as the boss comes back, ma'am.  You 
fill out the form?  Okay, I'll be over to your office real soon ..."
     "Oh, that's not my office address, dear; that's my home address."  
Her eyelashes fluttered and she perched her hand on one hip.  "But I'll be 
there in just a few minutes.  And thank you, dear, you've saved my life."  
With a warm pat, she rested her hand on his, and for a brief moment she 
was tempted to jump over that counter and plant one on his full lush lips.  
But what normal woman would ever set out to lure a boy when she could have 
a man, not that the choice had been offered to her as of late, she 
realized with a throaty moan. 
     "Thank you ... what's your name?"
     "Eddie ..."
     "... Eddie," she warmly smiled at him as he raced around the corner 
to open the door for her.  Girlishly, she waved at him through the glass 
window pane, though his face was blocked by the poster covering the far 
corner of the glass.  Instinctively, she knew he was still watching her 
and she made an extra effort to take salacious long strides for the 
duration of the block.
     Damn, he was a sweet, young dream, the infused blonde wife reflected 
most of the way to her car.  Some lucky girl either was, or was going to 
be made mighty happy with that young darling crawling between her legs ... 
Lord ... if she didn't stop thinking like this she was going to be a mess 
of frayed nerves before the day was over!  And it was her own fault, too!  
Her scheme had worked with George ... at least she knew his taunting 
remarks had been sincerely founded ... then, dammit, she'd blown the whole 
thing, telling him she had to work.  Damn, he knew it was a lie!  What she 
needed was a drink.
     The ride home was brief and uneventful in reality, the fantasy side 
of her mind feasting off the events of the day.  Oh, thank the Lord there 
were only twenty-four hours in a day!  Perhaps a good night's sleep would 
quell that surging loneliness up there between her legs.
     After hanging up her coat, Ann made a bee-line for the liquor cabinet 
and mixed a martini.  With this fortification, she took out a roast from 
the refrigerator and plopped it in a dutch oven and set the timer.  Thank 
God for modern conveniences, she mused as she sipped ravenously at the 
martini.
     How should she act the next day in front of Dr. Everett?  Cool, 
aloof?  As if nothing had happened?  Should she let him make the next 
move, which she was almost positive he would?  Yes, of course, what kind 
of a hussy was she to go chasing after her husband's colleague.  ADULTERY!  
The word flashed electric red in her mind.  My God, she'd never thought of 
it in those lurid terms before.  But it was against the law, against every 
moral fiber in her soul.  Why had she entertained such a fantasy?  The 
truth was, she knew but would not admit, was that she was afraid ... a 
professorial husband on Pill Hill was status, security, travel ...  but 
dull as hell.
     "Hey, you're not the whore that you pretend to be," she said aloud.  
And mentally: though if anyone knew the way you're aching inside for some 
good hard cock, they'd never guess it!  Maybe a good hot bath to calm the 
fires before the genius comes home and you find yourself trying to seduce 
the poor old fool just to be frustrated again.  On second thought, maybe 
I'd better do it myself -- that way I'll make sure the job gets done.
     A tiny ripple of sexual excitement added a new emotional arousal of 
the sizzling agitation already stewing in her soft belly and hot, 
moistened loins.  Determined, she attacked the wine bottle this time, 
carrying a cool goblet of white wine into the bathroom with her.  Then she 
stripped naked.
     In the bathroom she wound her long blonde hair into a knot, and 
started to draw water as she sipped at her wine, the alcohol beginning to 
effectively warm her.  Her sultry blue eyes glancing at her white 
nakedness reflected in the full length mirror and glimmered narcistically 
as a tiny ripply sensation of pleasure flittered through her voluptuous, 
twenty-two year old body.  For a moment, she stood unmoving, admiring her 
sensually harmonious curves, her full, pink nippled breasts and slender 
waist, the sweeping flow of her arched hips into the long, white columns 
of her smooth, rounded thighs and tapering calves.
     Dr. George Everett, wouldn't you love to see what I'm looking at 
right now?  Nothing short of an erotically pleasing sight, I'd say?  How 
would I fit into your research, honey ... the sex-crazed housewife?  The 
masturbating bitch?
     She let her eyes sensually caress the secret ivory-like outline that 
her slim halter had left across the resilient mounds of her uptilted, full 
young breasts, and below where her tiny bikini had cupped the curved moons 
of her satiny firm buttocks.  But it was the milky-white of her generous 
hips and lower belly where the silken triangle of sparse, golden curls 
began to sprinkle over her cuntal mound that invariably fired her 
excitement.
     God, would she do it first, right there in front of the mirror ... or 
in the bathtub ... or on the bed?
     The harsh sound of the front door broke her thoughts.  Now who could 
that be?  Irritably, she looked for something to put around her, finally 
settling for a beach towel.  Ah, it would do in a pinch, she decided since 
it covered enough of her so that she could peek around the door and see 
what whoever it was wanted.
     A stimulating little tingle raced through her at the recognition of 
Eddie, from Instant Press, with his clean, youthful smile.  She clutched 
the towel to her breasts and stepped behind the door, letting him in.
     "Mrs. Dexter?  ...  Here ... here's your copies.  All three sets.  
Made them myself.  We billed it to your husband's account.
     For a moment, Ann stared at him in surprise.  "My, that was fast!  
Oh, thank God!  You've saved my job."  Her knuckles were regaining their 
color now as she loosened her fist-tight grip on the towel, suddenly 
remembering with mixed emotions, that she wore nothing beneath.
     "Won't you come in, Eddie and have something to drink?  An iced tea 
maybe?"
     "Oh, no, but thank you, Mrs. Dexter.  I have to get back to the shop 
and clean up yet before I can leave.  This was just a little extra job I 
took on.  Now if you'll sign this, I'll be on my way ..."
     "Wait a minute," rebuked the young blonde impetuously grabbing his 
arm.  "Why don't you stay for just a minute while I look through these 
copies."
     The young teenager looked anxious, but God, with a half-naked lady 
asking him to come in, what could he say, but ...
     "Okay, if you insist... I could use something to drink," he said, 
passing close to her, his arm lightly brushing the tip of one sensitive 
breast behind the white, fuzzy towel covering her, raising a sparkling 
little ripple in her soft belly.  In response, the young woman pulled the 
hardly adequate towel around her aroused nakedness, smiling at him as he 
timidly looked at her.  His face was flushing as it had in the store 
earlier.  He'd noticed the soft, erotic contact, too!
     She gestured toward the chair as she moved toward the refrigerator, 
but he didn't sit.  God, she felt certain his pale blue eyes were avidly 
traveling the length of her near-naked body, imagining beyond the single 
garment, wondering what, if anything, she wore beneath it.  Or ... or was 
she letting her overly keyed-up imagination run away with her?  She poured 
a glass of ice tea, spicing it with a teaspoon of sugar and a slice of 
lemon, and offered him the glass.  He accepted the glass and tilted it to 
his full, generous lips, while she continued to appraise and measure him, 
wildly wondering what was going through his young mind ...!
     It was a crazy conversation, almost as if she was finding it hard to 
talk to him as was he in coming up with answers that wouldn't make him 
look like an awkward idiot, the fifteen year old teenager nervously 
thought.  She was so fucking beautiful!  And he'd seen her nearly naked 
ass right there when she turned to go to the kitchen ... nothing on at 
all!  Man, she had to know he could see it ... just the way she had to 
have felt it when he'd brushed against her tit a minute ago ...!
     "Excuse me just a second while I turn down the roast, dear, and then 
I'll look these over."
     "Sure ... that's okay!" he answered, probably too enthusiastically, 
the thoughts he was thinking absolutely knot-headed, he told himself.  Get 
with it, idiot.  What could a beautiful married woman want with a brat 
like you?  Bet she gets laid every night by her husband!  Bet he licks her

