The dim glow of candlelight flickered, casting shadows on the walls of my apartment as soft jazz whispered through the air. The scent of lavender and sandalwood lingered, seducing my senses while I sipped my wine, trying to steady my racing thoughts.
It was necessary to focus on my path. I was Alisha Reynolds, a woman consumed by desire, a hunger that threatened to destroy me. My once-secret collection of seven lovers, each for a different day of the week, had been exposed, and now I faced the daunting task of confronting them all, gauging their intentions to remain tethered to my insatiable appetite.
"Monday," I whispered, rolling the word around in my mouth, letting it linger like the taste of his kiss. Monday's man was passionate and intense, a perfect way to start the week. And now,
