Mahmoud was sent here for the primary purpose of spying on me and reporting back to Islamabad about my sinful ways. Jesse was no help at all because she was all fixated on some new rock band that was in town for a concert. She had begged me numerous times to attend the silly thing and I had finally broken down and given her permission and a ticket I had procured from P.C. Anderson that had, no doubt, been gotten as some sort of bribe for an official favor.Mrs. Mahmoud was a cold fish.She wore a severely tailored business suit and huge black rimmed glasses that made her plain unpainted face look even more depressing than if she had been wearing traditional attire. Her waist was a bit thick and her hips were at a disadvantage in the tight skirt. Her upper body was generously proportioned and the slight droop due to gravity was not particularly unappealing. In all honesty, he would have to admit she looked like a better than average candidate for a good mattress pounding if one could. .. again. She decided to pamper herself. After a light dinner she ran a bubble bath, lit some candles and undressed. When the water was steaming hot just like she liked it, she eased herself into the tub. It felt good to melt away the tension of the work day, but he mind wandered back to HIM. Scott. What was it about him? That he just wouldn't give up? That he was absolutely beautiful and interested in her of all people? His warm breath on the back of her neck when they worked closely on their project at work? That's what she started to concentrate on. His breath on her skin. The touch of his belly on her hand while he reached across the table to explain his reason for the changes he had made. She began to caress her breasts, her nipples hard. She ran a hand over her wet, soapy belly until it met the v of her thighs. What had gotten into her, she thought. She hadn't thought about anyone but her husband since they met. But she couldn't help herself. The harder she tried, the more Scott.
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