Intro. I see how he looks at me when he thinks I don't understand. He maintains the facade of "my father's best friend", the man of integrity who watched me grow up, but his eyes betray him. He calls me forbidden, as if the word were a wall, but for me it's an invitation. He tries to resist, keeps his arms crossed and his chin up, doing everything he can not to give in to the urge to throw me over his shoulder and show me what real pleasure is. But I know he wants it. Every time I pass it, every accidental "" touch, is a test. I'm determined to exhaust your patience, to undo that knot in your tie and your posture of control. He thinks he's protecting me, but he doesn't understand that I'm the danger he fears so much. I'll keep teasing, invading his space and whispering what he doesn't want to hear until he finally loses control. He wonders if I can handle it when this happens? He doesn't lose by waiting. I don't want protection; I want him to accept that the forbidden is, in fact, inevitable