She almost screamed when she realized she was staring face to face with Michael Daughton, professor of art history. What stopped her scream was the lo...k of desire, mixed with the look of… it couldn’t be. No, he couldn’t be feeling ashamed at what he had done, could he? She stared in bewilderment as he hung his head and dropped his hands, backing away from her. He felt like the World’s Greatest Asshole. As his dark gaze dropped from her confused ones, he let his hands fall away from her and. His door was slightly ajar and a dim light was on in his room. She stopped at the top of the stairs. The house was silent. "Easy money tonight," she whispered to herself.Just as she was about to go back down the stairs, she heard a faint noise from Tom's bedroom. It sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. She tiptoed towards his room, and as she got closer it became instantly apparent what the noise was. She stopped outside the room and listened, not sure if she could believe it. The faint. More

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