On the elevator, they called her "freak," "queer," and "wannabe woman." In the office, they made faces at her. Whenever they accepted a memo or a form...or a letter from her, they took the document by its corner, between the thumb and forefinger, as if it might be contaminated. James did none of these things. Instead, he avoided her. He wasn't guilty of insulting her. His sins were sins of omission, rather than sins of commission. He failed to offer Samantha friendship, sympathy, or moral. The woman was as plain as anything. Hair pulled back in a ponytail, face had a light dusting of makeup on her eyes, almost like it was there the day before and hadn't been removed. But there was something about her that was so sexy. The way her hair was long enough for him to tug on? Or maybe it was the fact that she didn't go out of her way to impress him, yet seemed completely enthralled with him. The way the jogging pants clung to her pelvic bone and shaped around her tight ass or the way. More

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