That Filthy book
“Quick-fire fast, the memories flooded my mind, and I allowed myself an indulgent smile. It had gone well, hadn’t it? Just as I’d hoped it would. I admitted his lack of wanting to share his true inner feelings about the experience had…pinched a little. Yes, it had pinched, but not enough for it to sour my mood or for me to want to ponder on it too much. Maybe he needed time to digest it, to accept that he wasn’t a pervert for enjoying what we’d done. God knows I’d been through the same sort of t...hing.
Once he’d fully accepted that what we did remained between us, he’d be okay. God, it wasn’t like I had a close enough friend to tell anyway, and I knew damn well he wouldn’t share our experiences with anyone at work. He always said he liked to keep his private and work lives separate, never allowing those he worked with to know anything but the basics about us.
He smiled at me, mug in hand—coffee if the scents coming my way were anything to go by—and my tummy did somersaults.MoreLess
Once he’d fully accepted that what we did remained between us, he’d be okay. God, it wasn’t like I had a close enough friend to tell anyway, and I knew damn well he wouldn’t share our experiences with anyone at work. He always said he liked to keep his private and work lives separate, never allowing those he worked with to know anything but the basics about us.
He smiled at me, mug in hand—coffee if the scents coming my way were anything to go by—and my tummy did somersaults.MoreLess
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