Chapter Four
Michael’s First Fantasy
Bolt upright and suddenly wide-awake, Michael Wilson allowed the air to escape his lungs and his head to slump back against the pillow it had left not seconds before; unsure what disturbed him most: the nature of the dream from which he had just woken, or the baffling erection that still raged unabated beneath the cool single sheet covering him in the comfortable but somewhat humid apartment above Shreya Leghari’s garage.
As his scrambled and somewhat shamed thoughts regained a near even-keel, he was quick to point out to himself that the dream which had disturbed him so could only have come about thanks to the events of the morning and his serving of the young women in their native subcontinent costumes who so plainly enjoyed having an Englishman of
