Archer had softly curled red hair. It cascaded to her shoulders and shined. I had never noticed that she had red hair. I thought that she must have re...ently colored it. I buried myself in my work. Thoughts of Mrs. Archer intruded into my concentration two or three times a day for the next couple of weeks. I can’t say that she was doing anything differently than in the past because I cannot recall ever paying any attention to what she wore, or smelled like, or how she had her hair, or anything. He kissed his way down the side of my neck and nibbled at my collarbone, beginning to pinch my aching nipples between his fingers, rolling them, until I was panting and breathless. His hands moved away and I immediately felt bereft, calming when he slid them under my tank and across my smooth skin, tugging the shirt up as he went. I sat up just a little so he could pull it over my head and blushed anew as I saw the honest male appreciation in his eyes as he stared at my tits. They weren’t. More

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