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A home invasion turns to pleasure.

The next few nights, he was back in Stix buying drinks till closing time and leaving alone. I'd had enough. I walked up to him and said, "Chris, here's what I want you to do the next time you see me. Stare straight into my eyes and say 'Sandy, you're coming home with me tonight.' And no matter what I say, you do not take no for an answer."

Half an hour later, he finished his beer, marched up to me and said, "Sandy, you're coming home with me tonight." It was okay. Not as forceful as I wanted, but okay.

"No, I'm not, you geek," I replied in a bitchy tone.

And he walked away. I felt like running after him and dragging his ass back. I was about to say something sarcastic when he turned around and looked me straight in the eye. I never saw him look this way before. His eyes were ablaze, his lips strong, and his chin pointed right at me. He looked like the wrong side of humiliation. "You are coming home with me tonight," he said in a rough tone.

I almost swallowed my gum. This was more like it. "Actually," I said. "I'm married. But thanks for the offer."

"Be ready," he said, his look daring me to defy him.

His anger was interesting, but I stayed detached. "We're not allowed to date clientele," I said.

"I'm not planning to date you," he said. "I'm going to fuck you till you can't walk."

I hadn't seen that coming. I didn't even know what to say, but he didn't give me a chance. He was gone. I was impressed. A successful project. He was on his way.

As I left Stix that night, I saw him standing against the street light, but still alone. "That was great, Chris! Really impressive-"

And then the game ended. My feet stumbled backwards, my back hit a concrete wall, and his lips covered my mouth before I could say another word. They sealed with mine and drew me in. I was gone. It wasn't that I couldn't resist. There was nothing to resist. We were together, joined. My mouth and tongue, hungry after months without attention, had a mind of its own. He pulled back for a second and said, "You're coming home with me tonight."

"I'm married," I said, out of breath.

"I don't care." He kissed me again.

I broke away for an instant. "Neither do I," I said, "but after tonight-"

"There is no after tonight," he said.

We went to his place, and he wasn't nice at all. He didn't offer me coffee, and he didn't offer me a drink. He didn't undress me slowly, and he didn't wait till we got to the bedroom. The instant we were inside, he had me facing the wall as he tore at my shorts. He gasped when he saw my tiny pink panties, and I thought for a second he was going to come on the spot. Instead, he fucked me right there, pinned to the wall by his large chest. And he didn't stop for an hour. I came at least half a dozen times. He just kept going.

When he lurched to the kitchen to get some water, I felt awkward about what was coming next. I anticipated the smile - the gawkish smile that was going to kill the whole experience. This was the roughest and most demanding lover I'd ever had. The fantasy was something I wanted to keep. I found my clothes and started to dress so I could slip away before he got back. Then found a fistful of my hair in his hand as he dragged me to the couch. He sat back and forced me to my knees, my head between his legs.

"Clean me up," he said.

Although I couldn't move my head, I looked up to him. Jesus, he was serious. The look in his eyes wasn't dangerous. He wasn't threatening. He was just insistent, demanding. He wanted me that bad.

When I was finished, he called me a taxi, but spoke not another word.

The next time I saw him, he didn't mention that night at all. He barely acknowledged me. He had other fish to fry. I felt radiant. I didn't want an affair. It just felt so good to get someone's love life on track.

A few weeks later, I felt the bug coming back. Not the sex bug - the teaching bug. This time it was Jonathon. "You're not Jonathon," I said. "You're Jack."

Jack was a little quicker than Chris, in all ways, but he made up for it in stamina.

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