Look, I know it’s a bad idea. I know. There isn’t a lecture you could give me that I haven’t already given myself a dozen times today.

And I try to stay away, I do. I never go looking for him. I keep to my duties and if he happens by, I’ll enjoy a look, and carry on. I might smile a little bigger but that’s hardly the point here.

But there are times I can’t avoid him, and when I’m two feet away, all I can hear is that soft, masculine baritone. All I can see his big eyes and gorgeous face and lopsided smile. And I can’t smell anything, but some primal thing in my brain does anyway: his musk, his testosterone, his primal being. It floods every nerve in my body until I am seconds from tossing aside every shy, ladylike bone in my body and dragging him into a dark closet by his collar.

“It’s a bad idea.”

I know it’s a bad idea.

“But you… you really need to get laid.”

That’s the point here.