"I… well, that is…" Roger stammered, knowing instantly what she was referring to: the unquenchable erection burning his pants.

Kim laughed throatily. Now it was time to be the feline, now was the time to cast aside her chaffing role of the modest secretary and become the uncontrolled hedonist, the lover of passion and sex. "Don't be ashamed of your hard-on, Roger. I've been married, remember? I know how it is with a man."

"Kim, I'm sorry. Really I am. I better leave."

"No! Don't!" she demanded in a husky voice, her mouth and eyes so close to Roger's face. "You think that just because we girls don't have penises, we don't get excited? We show it differently, and maybe not so obviously as your stiff cock…"

"Kim!" Roger gasped, shocked at the lewd words.

"Cock, Roger. You have a big hard cock, and it's because you want to fuck me, isn't it? That's why you're breathing as hard as I am and squirming in your seat and are all red in the face. You want to take your clothes off and fuck me!"

"Oh, God!" Roger groaned, gasping for air like a stranded fish. His penis was palpitating wildly, and his brain reeled with the heady combination of gin and sex. Had he heard her correctly? Had this sweet, publicly modest secretary been telling him that he was wanting to fuck her with his cock? And what was the matter with him? He was thinking the same filthy words! Lord, his testicles were aching with the pressure of his sperm as if he really was that crude and debased as to take advantage of her. Didn't she know what her obscene use of the words were doing to him? He took another swallow of his never-empty drink and found that he could hardly hold the glass in his trembling hand. He must leave… get out before they were both sorry for what he might do in a sudden impulsive move. But he was rooted to the couch.