She turns, startled. "Out of having s*x with you?"
Something about the casualty in her tone irritates me deeply, but I nod. Here I am, getting tormented by thoughts of her every f*****g second of the day, and she speaks of having s*x like she is talking about a cup of coffee.
She reaches up, smoothening down her damp hair. "Pleasure, I suppose." And her papers, she doesn't need to add.
Something dark rumbles inside me. It's the right answer, but it fills my mouth with ash. As if seeing through my stoic gaze, she adds, while giving me a few of her shaped ass, "I'm not stupid enough to think this is headed anywhere. You're getting married in a few weeks. Before then, I'll be out of here and this will be over. Forgotten. I understand what an affair is, believe me. I won’t reach for more.
