It was the first day of a mid-week real estate conference in Myrtle Beach. The theme for the conference was female ownership. Cary had been the boss for five years now, ever since Mark left her a widow. Despite the all-woman population in attendance, Cary felt the need, the urge, for a sexual encounter. While married, she had never given a thought to being with another woman, but now, at 63, with a fit body, shapely legs,...

The hotel bar in downtown Chicago was softly lit, where conversations mixed with the sound of jazz piano. Cary sat alone on a leather stool near the end of the bar, her martini glass reflecting the light above. The midweek conference had been dull; name tags and bad coffee. There was no spark, no excitement. No one worth seducing. She wore a low-cut, red mini-skirt that clung to her curves and revealed her dancer’s legs c...

Cary stood at the podium in the Austin hotel ballroom, confident. The room was filled to capacity for her presentation: “Selling Homes to Generation Z.” As the owner of her own firm, she was the keynote speaker at the annual Texas Real Estate Symposium. She had flown in two days earlier, prepared to conquer the business stage, and perhaps have a little fun. Dressed conservatively in a tailored blazer and silk blouse, only...