She only blinks in response.
It is how I feel. I like the idea of Annabelle fat with my babe. Everyone will soon know that I am hers and only hers—is it wrong that I want to mark her in thesame way?
“You are being reckless,” she bites off. “And I have told you that such an outcome is unlikely.”
I shrug, but decide to drop the matter.
“I have worked all my life,” I snap. “I must admit that I do not object to a few weeks of leisure.”
“You will tire of leisure,” she says. “And it is unclear when you will be able to return to performing your duties. And I cannot stop my matters of business to entertain you for weeks on end.”
Her words are harsh. But that is Annabelle.
“I will think of what I would like to do. Does that content you on this question?”
I do not care particularly. Given that my whole life is now in tatters. But if it will get Annabelle to stop worrying, I will think about some occupation.
My cock is still hard and she looks very beautiful, untouchable, behind her desk.
“Fine,” she says, standing and moving from behind the desk. “There was something else that I wanted to show you.”
She takes a little key from her drawer and bends down.
Then she puts a small cache of books on the table.
“My books,” she says. “Of an erotic variety. You may read them if you like.”
My hands move over the volumes. I open one and then another. Most are only text, but there are some with pictures.
I open one and then another. I linger on one in which a woman fucks a man in a verdant garden. I want to look away but can’t. When I finally force myself to flip the page, I am transfixed once more—by an image of a man tupping a woman against a wall.
“Why are you showing these to me?”
These images, so indecent, so provoking, do nothing to cool my ardor. I am harder than ever. She must know it.
“I thought you might like them. Since you’ve only had your little green book to entertain you. You might enjoy this reading material whilst you are here.”
I cannot look away from the image of the man and the woman against the wall.
“Would you want this?” I say, feeling very daring. “For me to take you like this?”
She looks down.
“It is a very pleasing position,” she says lightly. “But I doubt you are bold enough. It requires the man to—well, not be ashamed of his passions.”
I flush at her cold appraisal. She doesn’t think me capable.
“Anyway, enjoy them at any time.” She stands. “I must go now. I have letters to write.”
She steps towards the door.
The blood pounds in my head.
But I doubt you are bold enough.
Trying not to think, I follow her.
I reach her right before she gains the door.
