T.M.

It was night, but Natasha could not rest. Her body was on fire, her head swimming in visions of erotic happenings.

Then, as if from nowhere, he was there. In the doorway, watching her.

Natasha knew instinctively she was turning him on.

It was pleasant to watch him getting roused, to know that he wanted her as much as she wanted him.

It would be something special, this one, she told herself, and Natasha was right.