The rain tapped lazily against the windows of Jaston's apartment, as if the world outside was trying to spy on what was about to happen inside.

Hellen pressed the doorbell with fingers still damp, her skin gleaming under the tight fabric of the little black dress. The high heels accentuated every curve of her leg, and her loose hair, a little damp from the drizzle, fell to the middle of her back. She knew she looked delicious. And she knew that Jaston knew it too.

The door opened with that ...