The door clicks shut behind. And then it’s just her. Standing in that loose cream tee and soft little shorts. God, the fabric hangs off one shoulder, lazy and low. It just provoked me. She moves toward the window. She leans a hand against the wall beside the glass, back slightly arched, hip tilted. Her lips curled in a small, dangerous smile. And then she asks, quietly, “Do you feel guilty having sex with your friend’s wi...