I like Gino, but he is transactional, and he wouldn't be the one banning me. He would probably find a way to extract favors.
No, it is not Gino that worries me right now.
It is Dad.
Or should I say, Lyndall.
If it was Dad alone, I would happily go no contact myself. I would never talk to him or my cousins who are crawling all over each other to get in his good graces.
It would be no great loss.
But he has influence.
Certain power.
And Lyndall would be at his mercy.
My sister is not someone I ever want to hurt, especially because of my actions.
So, my father doesn't know a damn thing, which is how it is going to stay.
The person in the elevator gets off, and I continue to descend.
I look at the picture she sent of the panties in her bag to show she is still not wearing them.
There are a lot of folded papers and a book.
I can't see the name, but in my head, it is a smutty one. Any girl who sends a supposed stranger her underwear pics, demure cleavage shots, and goes commando must harbor fantasies. Things like this clearly turn her on if the wet patch is anything to go by.
I want to know her fantasies and what else turns her on.
Of course, the book could be anything.
I'm on the fourth floor when the elevator stops, and the doors ding open.
Like a secret wish or threat—I'm not sure which—has been answered, Lola suddenly hurries in and swings her large bag from where it covers her ass to her front and starts rifling through it.
I'm fascinated. I can see her panties and the spine of the book.
Then a flash of cover with a half-naked couple in a clinch.Wild Betsis the name, and I tuck it away, eager to find out what it is all about.
Lola is prettier up close. Her black hair is pulled back into a bun that looks ready to protest violently at any second and let curly wisps escape.
Her outfit should be banned.
A white shirt that is business from the collar to the cuffed wrists and a longish black pencil skirt.
Her long damned legs?—
My cock throbs.
"Where is my damn lanyard?" she mutters.
Lola finds something and pulls it from her bag and then glances at the elevator as she slips it over her head. "Oh, no. I'm meant to be going up, not down."
Self-control has never been a strong suit of mine, and I really can't help myself.
"There's a lot to be said about going down."
