The Treasure Valley Consideration

“Pictures?” You asked.

“And video.” He responded.

“Who would see them?”

“Me.”

Heat from sun-soaked leather burrowed through the thin fabric of your knee skirt, the car seat’s upholstery so hot it felt biting cold against the ass and thighs. Oven heat inside the car as you closed the door, wrapping itself around you, like a blanket, like arms, licking against your skin, drawing out a thin bead of sweat.

“I don’t know…” you type into the phone.

It started as a lark, visiting the page, lurking, imagining, day dreams at your desk, on the drive home, in the idle hours between sleep and wake, in the shower, conversations with imaginary partners. Where it could begin, where it could go. Temptations you would never give into.

Then one day…you sent a DM…

Sweat beads on your neck, then falls, running down your low cut office shirt, down your chest, tickling like a finger, like a tongue. You notice your knees have been squeezed other, and you release them.

“Let me think about it…” you type, but you already have, haven’t you?