I grasp the edge of the sink with both hands, trying to catch my breath as Thatcher pulls out. He sinks to his knees and, looking at me in the mirror, slowly eases my panties back up my legs, then adjusts my skirt.

He stands and washes his hands while I'm still trying to breathe slowly. Once I feel ready to adjust my hair and my bra, I notice that he's all tucked in and looking perfect. "When did you cut your hair," is all I can think to say. Every single time with that man ...