The weeks after the mall encounter dragged for Amber like a dream she couldn’t wake from. Every lecture on psychology seemed to echo the stranger’s stare. When the professor spoke of repressed desire, Amber’s mind flashed to the way his black eyes had stripped her bare in public. When they discussed the subconscious pull toward authority figures, her body responded with a treacherous heat between her thighs. She sat in class with her notebook open, pen motionless, feeling her heavy breasts rise and fall too quickly, nipples brushing the lace of her bra until they ached.

At night, alone in her suite, the fantasies grew bolder. She would lock the door, dim the lights, and stand before the full-length mirror in nothing but silk panties. Cupping her magnificent breasts, she imagined his large hands replacing hers rougher, more demanding. She pinched her nipples hard, gasping at the sharp pleasure, picturing his mouth there instead, teeth grazing, tongue soothing. Her huge amber eyes stared back from the glass, wide and glassy with need as her fingers slipped lower, circling her clit in slow, desperate strokes. She came whispering a nameless “Sir” into the dark.