She finally allowed her thoughts to wander to sex. Her awakening lust spun through a Rolodex of scenarios, a film script of terrible and angry intimac.... She allowed herself an arrogant sneer, She would break her husband when she was out of the hospital. Her hips frustrated against the cast, imagined penetrations building up in her mind. Her lungs pushed air through her lips more like a film monster than a person. She ignited in her prison. Her breath caught in her chest as the door to her. The first thing that caught my eye wasn't the fashionably modern interview outfit, with the low cut cleavage peek and mid-thigh short skirt. Nor was it the long beautiful black hair, or high heels. Instead it was that confident annoying smirk I just cant stand seeing those young people wear. What the FUCK was she so DAME confident about?"Are you Miss Margret?" She questions me, too dumb to figure out the name on the door."Yes hello, I am Miss Margret." Wonderful to meet you, I'm Monica Stevens.. More

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