Thomas turned the key in the door and stepped into the basement.

"Come inside," he said.

She stood timidly in the center of the barren room, taking in the bed, the table and chair, the refrigerator, the camcorder-and the tall wooden door set in the back wall.

"What is this place?" she said.

"This will be your home for the next two weeks," Thomas said.

"My home?"

Her eyes flickered toward the metal bed.

"Thomas," she said. "Why can't we do this upstairs?"

Thomas sat at the table.

"Do what?' he said.

Charlotte shifted uncomfortably, her cheeks glowing, and Thomas's erection intensified. She looked around the basement and then up at the low ceiling.

"What you want," she said softly.

"And what is it that you think I want?" Thomas said.

She was visibly squirming now, unwilling to say it, what she thought he wanted her to say. Glancing once more at the barren mattress, she said, "I-I'll sleep with you-make you happy."

Thomas sighed. Charlotte probably thought she had just made the ultimate sacrifice. But the way she had just said it, as if she were offering a dog scraps from the dining table, couldn't have been further from the mark.

"So, you're willing to fuck me-is that what you are saying?" Thomas said.

Charlotte lowered her head and nodded.

"Well, that's very generous," Thomas said. "I'm sure Peter would be most proud of you."

She looked up and a tear trickled down her flushed cheek.

Thomas went over to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of bourbon, and poured himself a glass.

"Well, if you're going to offer me your body, you'd better show me what you've got," he said, leaning against the table.

She looked at him, eyes wide.

"Come on, Charlotte," Thomas said. "You've just offered yourself to me like a whore. What were you expecting? That we would do it under the covers with the lights out? Sorry, but it's been eight years. I need to see what I will be getting for my trouble."

"Please, I can't," Charlotte sniffed.

Thomas took a swallow of bourbon.

"That's okay," he said. "You don't have to."

A spark of hope flashed in Charlotte's eyes.

"I don't?"

"Nope. In fact, I think you should just go."

Thomas finished his glass and refilled it.

Charlotte shuffled her feet on the concrete floor and Thomas looked at her.

"Are you still here? Go on. I said you can leave."

Charlotte didn't move. "Um-what about my husband?"

"It's not looking good for him, is it?" Thomas shrugged. "Personally, I think you should file for divorce and find yourself a new man. Peter will be old and gray by the time you see him again. I wouldn't waste your best years if I were you."

More tears ran down Charlotte's cheeks. "Please, what do you want from me?"

"Me? Nothing."

"B-But you brought me here!"

"That I did. But if you are going to be difficult, then I will have to withdraw my proposal."

To Thomas's delight, Charlotte still didn't move. He had been afraid that his reverse psychology might not work-but she had taken the bait, hook, line and sinker!

"I'm sorry, Thomas-I do want to stay here!" she said.

Thomas could have danced with joy, but he kept control and just looked at her impassively.

"I don't know," he said. "Maybe I made a mistake waiting all these years-you're probably too old now."

He waited while she stalled for time and then he pointedly looked at his watch.

Then Charlotte took a deep breath, looked away, and pulled her shirt out from the waistband of her jeans. Thomas sipped his drink and tried to appear aloof. But then she raised her shirt and he saw her flat stomach and her indented navel, and next her white bra came into view, and then she pulled her shirt over her head and clutched it against her chest, and his pulse quickened.

He guessed she must have been waiting for him to say something, but when he didn't, she dropped her shirt on the bed and then crossed her arms over her chest. This would probably have been marginally easier for her if he had said something, but having gained the advantage, that wasn't how he intended for this to play out at all-it had to be her decision to get naked in front of him.

When she still didn't move, Thomas picked up his phone, pretending to see a message.

"Well, if that's it, I have a meeting to-"

"No!"

Charlotte quickly reached behind and unhooked her bra. Thomas watched the straps fall off her shoulders and then she pulled the cups away and dropped her bra on the bed with her shirt. She had her elbows crossed in front of her and Thomas looked at his phone again.

"So-"

Charlotte let out a shuddering sigh and lowered her arms to her sides.

My God!

Her breasts were firm and round with big, puffy areolas! A fantasy Thomas had dreamed of for years-now right there in front of his eyes!

He forced himself to look at his phone again and he heard her pop the stud on her jeans and then roll them down her legs. He kept on studying his home screen as she shuffled her panties down her thighs, and after a mental count of three, he looked up again.

Charlotte was standing naked before him-and she still had the body of a teenager. He gazed adoringly at her prominent cunt which was covered by a layer of wispy black hair.

Then he said, "Why, Mrs. Blanchard! You've taken all your clothes off! May I take a photograph?"