Chapter Eight
Andrea heard the man in the adjacent carrel.
I won't look.
She sat still, staring at her computer screen, but after a moment she stood up and looked around the partition. He was standing at his desk, his chair pushed to one side. There was no question what he was doing.
He was looking at photographs in a leather portfolio. A glare on the protective plastic obscured the photographs. She walked forward.
The young man heard her and looked over his shoulder. “Oh!” he groaned, looking from Andrea to the book and back, his semen spurting from his p***s and landing on the plastic. Andrea looked down.
“Oh, my God!” They were Francesco’s photographs of her. “Where’d you get these?”
Semen fell from the man's p***s onto the protective plastic over a photograph in which she was sm
