When Kara blinked her wide, innocent eyes at me, I almost gave in. I almost let myself press this eighteen-year-old girl down against my shabby bed and then thoroughly ravish her delectable body. And in order to resist those treacherous temptations, I pinched the fleshy part of my inner thigh, hard, and pointed in the direction of the door.
Then, I put on the most disapproving expression I could muster and scolded, "I don't appreciate you making fun of me like this, Kara. So don't do it again, alright? Now, hurry home."
The girl's face fell, but amid the disappointment was also some—dare I say it—yearning? It was a very complicated expression, to say the least.
"But… I'm scared! Can't you pleeeease walk me home? Are you really going to let a frail young girl like me walk home in the dar
