Assistant District Attorney Sharon Ellis left her office on the second floor of the Franklin County Courthouse in downtown Louisburg, North Carolina, heading home. It was surprisingly warm for the first Friday in December. The clock on the front of the courthouse showed one o’clock.

She lived three miles from her office. Ten minutes after entering her car, she’d pulled into her driveway.

As the front door closed behind her, she began shedding her clothes, making her way to the bathroom. The cold water cascading from the showerhead couldn’t cool the fire burning within her naked body.

With her towel, she cleared the fog off the mirror. She marveled at her pear-shaped breasts, the breasts that he’d squeezed and kissed. Her nipples were as hard as when he nibbled on them with his teeth.

Sharon stood five-four with a 36-30-35 measurement. Her long black hair was tied in a ponytail that reached just below her shoulders. She was a good-looking woman for her age, she thought. She’d accidentally overheard several men in the office discussing how pretty she was. It felt nice to be appreciated.

It wasn’t that forty-something was over the hill for a woman, but it was those young twenty-something girls just out of college that you were competing with. The ones with the fake breasts, tight asses, and fake smiles. They walked into an office with freshly printed diplomas, swishing their hips like a worm on a hook. Then some older married man bit, like John, her ex-husband.

She touched her right breast with her left hand, caressing the erect nipple. Her right hand traveled through her mound of pubic hairs, finding its way to her clitoris. She could release some of her pent-up sexual tension right now. It would take her only a few minutes to come. She decided to let it stew for the three-hour, 170-mile drive to Charlotte. She would have three days of dick to satisfy her every sexual need.

Casual or business? she wondered, standing in front of her closet. A business-style blue dress with a matching dark blue jacket, she decided. No pantyhose. A garter belt, nylon stockings, and high heels should drive the young man crazy. She packed her bra and panties in her suitcase. She needed the air to flow between her legs to keep the fire down there from flaring up.

She felt like a teenager secretly on her way to have sex with her boyfriend instead of the forty-four-year-old, divorced woman on her way to meet her young twenty-one-year-old lover. It had been a week since he was inside of her, and yet she could still feel his presence between her thighs. Wow, she thought, all that dick.