Each time she remembered a little less and fantasized a little more. She envisioned what might have happened if Freddie hadn’t forgotten his bag. Would Reagan have thrown her against a table and had her way with her? Would she? Lust turned to an aching hunger building between her thighs and compromising her nervous system, her muscles, her skin. It continued to build like an unstoppable flood of desire until she let herself imagine the full scene until the shuddering pinnacle. By the time she arrived at the office, she was breathless. Shit. What have I done?
