Roman closed the bedroom door behind them with a soft click.
The room was large, simply furnished, king bed with dark sheets, a wide closet, a dresser, the faint scent of his cologne lingering in the air.
Afternoon light filtered through the half-drawn blinds. Rachael stood near the foot of the bed, still in the clean clothes she had changed into after washing the teacher’s c*m from her thighs.
Her pulse had not slowed since the car.
Roman turned to face her. His expression was steady, searching.
“Tell me how it works for you,” he said. “This thing you feel. Do you only get it when you see a man...someone specific...or does it start before that? Is it constant?”
Rachael’s throat worked. She looked at the floor for a second, then met his eyes.
“I always feel it. Any time. Any day.
