She drank her cold coffee and looked around the cluttered office. I should go home. It’s too late to be here. Too late to be surrounded by all these...dead people and their dead things. It wasn’t that she didn’t love the job, bigger museums had offered her jobs with better money and more prestige, but she always turned them down. She stayed because she wanted to be with the collection. But on nights like this, alone, in the dark, it was too easy to think of the building as her own tomb. She felt. You kick my feet a little wider and then begin exploring my garden with your fingers. I have never been touched like this before, and I am becoming wetter as you continue creating these new sensations for me to learn. As you explore, I begin to shake and tremble. I am grateful for the bed as my knees shake, threatening to buckle at any point. Little moans and whimpers escape my mouth, only to be dampened to a volume that only we can hear, allowing us to be discrete. My breathing is shallow and. More

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