Chapter Eighteen
Christopher
Nothing boosts my self-confidence more than when Meg is fawning all over me. How many times recently have I dragged myself through a slow day teaching disinterested students by fantasizing about an upcoming evening with her? Look at her over there, working away on that shiny new sewing machine. The steady buzz and quiet swooshing sounds are almost melodic in the absence of music as we enjoy a night free of television or Internet. She’s so damn focused right now, and it’s pretty hot. I like seeing this side of her, this creative alter-ego, compared to how I see her interact with her students. Even sitting at her machine with those silk pajamas and hair up in a bun, I want to devour her.
“I can feel you staring at me, Chris,” she says in a cheery, slightly mu
