”“Wow,” she replied. “I like that.”“You are,” I replied emphatically. “Anything in particular? Not that I mind just talking to you any...time.”“Well, I wanted you to see me masturbate,” replied Sophie. “You think that is more interesting than me explaining stocks to you.”“Oh my goodness, yes!” I exclaimed. “I believe I may find that more, erm, stimulating.”“I think you know I am a bit of a voyeur, don’t you?” she asked.“Yes, and I find it incredibly sexy,” I replied. “Everything about you is. So that’s how it started. Later in the week, she met me with yet another pair—these of beige lace. The next week, it was nearly every day, each day a new pair. She evidently had thrown more than a random pair into her cart that day at the mall. As it turns out, her shopping trips since our return from London had been many, lengthy, creative and not altogether limited to “brick and mortar” stores—she had worn out the internet, too. You can probably guess that she made other requests. I was. More

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