John locked the door behind him and slumped onto an unopened crate. His summer internship at the museum had been plagued with bad luck. From the kid who'd vomited onto a Regency velvet chair while he had its case open, to the girl he'd chatted up while giving a tour turning out to be a well developed 16 year old, to walking in on his boss Melanie changing clothes in the office last week. Well, seeing the athletic 35 year old redhead in just her bra and panties hadn't been all bad, but he hadn't been able to talk to her since then without imagining her naked, and it was pretty obvious she knew what was going through his head.
"John, I'd like you to make room for the new arrivals today, clear out the corner storeroom up on the third floor and shift everything there down to basement storage. If you finish early just take the rest of the day off."
John swallowed, trying to keep his mind off the tan freckled body hiding inside her tight curator's uniform. He'd kinda had the hots for Melanie Danvers ever since she'd interviewed him as a favor to his thesis adviser. She was attractive, divorced, intelligent, well-endowed, and she'd frankly admitted she'd selected him for the internship more for his muscles than for his standing in the archeology department. That comment alone had spun some memorable shower fantasies for him, but it'd turned out she was more interested in him rearranging the museum storerooms than putting his muscles to more intimate uses.
"Yes Ms Danvers." John glanced up from the floor to find her staring at him over her glasses and felt himself blush to the roots of his hair.
She rolled her eyes and put one hand on her hip. "Don't make me regret not firing you Bull," She pointed at the stairs, "Get going!"
John took the stairs three at a time, it was second nature after all the physical training he'd done. He'd surprised many people by applying for graduate study in archeology instead of joining a professional sports team. With his height and strength he could have taken any number of offers. The other grad students had started calling him Bull after he'd moved a cast bronze Minoan statue for the department head. She'd intended he go get a pallet jack, but it only weighed a couple hundred pounds so John just picked it up and carried it to the classroom for her. He didn't know how Melanie had learned of the nickname, but she'd begun using it after he'd walked in on her.
He'd forgotten to drop off his time sheet and it was due the next morning, so he'd doubled back to the offices after the museum had closed for the night. The lights were off, and the last thing John expected to see when he flipped them on was Melanie bent over in the act of picking her uniform trousers up off the floor. Her blouse was off already and the way her full breasts swayed from side to side in her bra as she stared up at him was mesmerizing. 'John Taylor?! Get out!' John was moving before the words really registered in his ears, pulling the door shut behind him, slipping his timecard under it and sprinting from the building. He'd called in before his afternoon shift the next day, dreading their first conversation being face to face, or face to breasts as he kept imagining it.
"Ms Danvers--"
"Stop, Mr Taylor. Not another word until I'm done talking. I've spoken with your advisor and am tentatively prepared to let you complete your internship. I sent your time sheet to the burser's office, I understand from Alfred that the deadline for tuition reimbursement is today, which explains you intrusion last night. What happened was an unfortunate accident. One of a string of accidents which has marred your time here at the museum, but Alfred assures me you have no history of misogynistic behavior, so while I have grave reservations I am prepared to allow you to continue working for me."
"Thank you Ms--"
"I am not finished. We will never speak of this again, and should I ever hear you've bragged to your locker room buddies about seeing me undressed I shall file the incident report I wrote up last night, and see that you are prosecuted to the fullest extent possible, am I clear?"
"Yes Ms Danvers."
This past week she'd left him assignments taped to his cubical in the basement, or met him in the staff canteen or public areas of the museum to assign him his projects. Always somewhere open with other people around, always somewhere with at least a couple exits behind her. John grunted and kicked his heel against the crate he was sitting on. It was as if she expected that after seeing her undressed he'd be unable to resist forcing himself on her! That was when she'd first called him 'Bull'. He'd been so startled he'd stared at her, and she'd pulled out a can of mace and backed away. Fucking mace! Apparently to Melanie Danvers a man being big and strong and athletic meant he was a rapist waiting to happen. She'd started the other staffers calling him 'Bull' as well, making jokes about his being bull-headed, or bulling his way through obstacles. John knew his grades weren't great, the whole reason he had the summer internship was because he needed the extra credits it represented to keep his tuition waiver from getting yanked. She'd hired him for his muscles, that's all he'd ever been to her; a strong back and a dim mind.
John kicked the crate again, then stood, grabbed, and heaved it across the room. It hit the brick wall and shattered in a fountain of packing material. The porcelain statue of a kneeling dog inside it was visible moments before it too smashed against the wall, sending another spray of broken pieces rattling across the room.
"Oh shit oh shit oh shit." John knelt in the wreckage and felt the anger drain out of him. He waited for the shouts, the pounding on the door, nothing. John grabbed a nearby crate and tugged on the lid, his muscles bunching under his shirt. It pulled loose with a whine of distressed nails. He hauled straw packing out and began scooping broken pottery in. The straw and broken crate we could hide in the boiler room until he had a chance to disassemble it; one pile of broken lumber looked pretty much like any other, then he'd stack this crate in the back of the storage area with the label to the wall. Anyone looking for it would have to move everything to get at it, but that probably wouldn't happen until long after he was gone. John wasn't really looking at what he was doing, but was startled to feel something cold and metallic in the debris.
It was a bronze rod maybe six inches long. At the tip was a molded figure that looked a lot like the statue he'd destroyed. John started to shove it into the box, then realized what he'd thought was a kneeling dog was instead a nude kneeling woman. She was sitting with her ass on her ankles and her legs spread. Her shoulders were back thrusting out her breasts. It was incredibly lifelike, and John was puzzled how he'd have mistaken her for a dog. As the thought crossed his mind the bronze woman's face distorted, gaining a muzzle and perked doggy ears. John dropped the rod and backed away.
As soon as it left his hand, the carving on the end of the rod stopped moving. It rebounded against the floor with an almost musical sound and rolled towards John's feet. He leaped up, grabbing hold of the top two crates on either side of the stacks and pulled his legs up for fear the rod would touch him. It kept rolling, eventually coming to rest against some straw. John got down cautiously and finished scooping broken pottery into the box. There was black powder spread all over the place. It was gritty, and John sneezed a couple times as he finished dumping the ruined statue into the crate and using a board to force the nails back in. He'd have to take a hammer to it in the basement, but it wasn't uncommon for old nails to work their way lose.
The rod lay in the straw where he'd left it, the now dog headed woman in a pose of sexual availability. John winced, imagining what Melanie would do if he showed it to her. He had a brief vision of her kneeling on her desk in the same pose as the carving, then violently shook his head. He had to get rid of that kind of thought if he was going to make it through the rest of the summer. John used a wad of packing material and picked up the rod without touching it, stuffing it in the outer pocket of his cargo pants, he'd worry about that later.
***
"Mr Taylor, guten tag, how are you?"
John was surprised to see his adviser here at the museum.
"I'm doing okay Dr Lebenstraum, what brings you here?"
"Well I'd been meaning to have a talk with you and decided it might be best to get it over with sooner rather than later." He glanced around the empty storage room. "Ms Danvers told me you were up here getting things ready for my shipment to arrive, I'm glad they won't have to wait on the loading dock this time while the museum finds somewhere to put them." He walked over to the pile of dust John had swept into the corner and knelt to roll a pinch between his fingers.
"Canopic ash?" he tasted the dust, then spat onto the pile. "Cremations of some sort at least, you get to know the difference with experience."
"I, it was all over the floor. Should I.." John trailed off, realizing the rod and statue were more closely related than he'd imagined.
"Don't worry about it. Oh keep a small sample if you want, but it's too adulterated with common dust to be worth saving." Dr Lebenstraum pulled out a handkerchief and cleaned his fingers. You've been beset with problems this summer, yes?"
"Um, kinda, yeah."
"Well, such things happen. I wonder though, what your plans are for the fall?"
"I planned to meet with you about that, I was considering taking Dr Kirkland's Sumerian seminar again to raise my GPA."
"Bad Idea. Oh the GPA looks good, but it will stand out on your CV down the line." He began polishing his glasses with the handkerchief. "And this latest thing with Ms Danvers, perhaps you might want to take a semester off, try your hand out in the real world and see if perhaps archeology isn't the passion you thought it was?"
"What? No! What did she tell you happened?" John flung the broom down with a clatter.
"Now now, she hinted there might have been some inappropriate advances." He held the back of his hand up beside his mouth. "Off the record, not that I blame you, she's a fine looking woman!" Dr Lebenstraum replaced his glasses and continued. "But romance with one's supervisor is not something to suggest without being sure the feelings are mutual, and even then you're better waiting until one of you has taken a different job."
"She! I didn't-- you don't understand!" John shouted.
"Enlighten me then."
"I, I can't, she said she'd file an incident report if I told anyone what happened."
"If you're not at fault then you have nothing to fear." He waited several moments while John opened and shut his mouth before shaking his head.
"Well in any case I think time away from the university would be a good thing." The professor held his hand up stopping John from speaking. "As it happens there is a winter dig, at some Sumerian ruins in fact! And I would like you to apply to go along. It would mean missing two semesters of classes, but you should be able to write some papers about the experience and those publications will do more to offset your dismal grade than retaking the course would. As a bonus, this summer's gossip will be old news by the time you get back. Here, I printed you the application, and the dean has already said you'll be approved. What do you say?"
"Thank you, I'll consider it."
"Do more than consider, apply. I won't be so quick to defend you in the future. Auf Wiedersehen!"
John fought to keep from wadding the papers into a ball and throw it after his adviser. As he bent to pick up the broom he felt the rod shift in his pocket. He closed the door, and cautiously pulled it out. The dogheaded woman had become fully canine, with her tail wrapped over her paws. John licked his lips and willed it to look like a woman again. The metal warmed under his touch, and the sculpted fur smoothed as the muzzle retracted and breasts pushed out. She was still kneeling with her legs spread, but now the woman was cupping and lifting her breasts with her head thrown back, eyes closed.
John numbly returned it to his pocket. He'd stopped believing in magic with santa clause, but had no better explanation for what he'd just seen. He knew ancient humans had believed in all sorts of magic powers and objects, apparently he shouldn't have been so quick to dismiss them. He tried to think what the rod might have been used for, magic sex-toy peep show being the best he could think of. Perhaps if he changed it back into a dog first he could show it to Ms Danvers without her throwing a fit. It did belong to the museum after all, so she might know what it was. But then she'd want to know why he'd taken it out of it's crate. He patted his pocket and eyed the application, best perhaps to sleep before deciding a number of things.
***
John finished locking the main doors after shooing out the last few undergrads yakking on their cell phones. Sundays were always busy, for all that they were only open to the public for four hours.
"Hey Bull, can you run these up to the office for me, I need to pick up my kids at the mall." Simon was one of the museum security guards, and treated John okay most of the time.
"Sure Simon, but hey, could you call he John from now on?" He accepted the clipboards from the older man with a smile. In his pocket he felt the rod grow suddenly hot.
"Hey, no problem John, a guy your size can be called whatever he wants, right?" Simon waved as he headed towards the staff exit.
John waited until he was in the stairwell to the offices before fishing the rod out of his pocket. There was nothing in the museum records about it being in the crate he'd smashed, just a dog-shaped funerary urn of unknown origin. He'd been relieved to find out the thing had been considered basically worthless and guessed they'd never gotten around to x-raying it to find the rod hidden inside. He knew it was a risk to keep carrying around, but if he didn't stick it in a pocket John would find himself absently juggling the rod, his phone, and his keyring as he locked his apartment without any memory of having picked it up. Locked drawers also proved no barrier, it looked like until he figured out what it was the thing was sticking close to him. He'd also grown more adept at controlling the carved woman; having her dance and pose for him as he lay in bed. The metal always got warm when that happened, so he while he wasn't sure what it had done while he was talking to Simon, John was certain it'd done something.
Instead of the familiar naked lady statue the rod was now tipped with a lifelike carving of Simon. John gaped at it, and willed the carving to become the naked woman again. The metal stayed cold and unresponsive in his hand. He thought about the Simon statue turning into a dog, and was startled to see it shift form with the familiar heat. He changed it from dog to man and back, but wasn't able to get the girl back. John heard footsteps and stuffed the rod back into his pocket, hurrying quietly up the steps. Most everyone would have left by now, John figured he and whoever had just come in were the last two in the building. In the office someone had left the light on in the copyroom, so after he hung up the clip boards John ducked in to turn off the light. He stood in the dark for a moment, remembering walking in on Melanie in this dark office just a couple weeks before.
He felt the rod heat up in his pocket, and had his fingers on the lightswitch to get a better look at it when the door to the stairs opened. Even in silhouette the light struck coppery highlights from Melanie's hair as she shut the door. John stepped back, not wanting her to see him when she turned the light on. As he stood in the dark he heard soft rustling noises, then the unmistakeable sound of a zipper! Apparently Ms Danvers changing clothes in the offices wasn't as uncommon an event as he'd imagined. He could feel warmth and the carving on the end of the rod moving in his pocket. As John worked it out he wished she'd at least turn on a desk lamp so he could take a peek.
The click of the light turning on coincided with a pulse of heat from the rod. Simon had been replaced with an equally lifelike nude image of his boss. The carving was bent over and appeared to be sorting something in front of it. John risked peaking around the corner and saw Melanie, stark naked, pulling something out of a drawer. He ducked back and watched the carving, now holding a bronze bottle, squeeze the contents into her hand. He could hear gurgling from the office and realized his rod was showing him exactly what his supervisor was doing. She rubbed her hands together, and proceeded to apply whatever had been in the bottle to her breasts.
John watched the carving massaging her breasts and knew that just a few feet away his supervisor was doing the same thing. He willed her to pose, the way he'd learned to pose the original carving, and felt the metal grow warmer in his hand. The carving lifted her breasts, and at John's feverish mental command closed her eyes as she began playing with her nipples. John looked back out across the office. Melanie stood illuminated by the faint light of the desklamp, eyes closed, fingers teasing and rolling her stiffened nipples. John's pulse was pounding and he took a half step to get a better look. As he lifted his foot he was shocked to hear the door handle turn. He jumped back into the copyroom, drenched in sweat.
"Leibchen?"
John was shocked, what was his adviser doing here, now of all times?
"Yah mein herr." Melanie murmured.
"Ah, no interruptions this week I take it?"
"Alfred, here I stand, oiled and ready to receive you, I'll not hear another word until you've satisfied me."
"Yavol, Liebchen."
John leaned against the copier, his mind spinning. She hadn't been changing, she was getting ready for a weekly tryst with a man twice her age! He remembered his adviser's comments about office romance, was this maybe the source of that? Or maybe he made visitations to a number of different ladies each week? John shook his head and watched the carving of Melanie lay back and wrap her legs around a phantom lover. John felt the pressure in his pants grow as the sounds of their lovemaking grew louder. He thought of Dr Alfred being where John so longed to be and the rod heated up. The carving shifted from Melanie to show the imminent climax of Dr Alfred Lebenstraum. John had seen plenty of men of all ages naked in the locker room, a bronze statue of a randy old man didn't shock him, but the wave of bitter anger he felt did. He felt the anger drain into the rod and watched as Alfred's erect member suddenly shrank and softened.
"What's wrong?"
"I, I don't know."
"Keep going!"
"I can't. liebchen forgive me."
John watched the carving of Alfred stumble back holding his limply inert manhood.
"Come finish the job, damnit!"
"I, I yes."
The carving shifted, showing two half-sized figures of John's professor performing cunnilingus on his supervisor. John shifted his attention to Melanie and focused his anger at her, willing her not to orgasm. The rod responded draining the anger from him. It pulsed with heat several times as the pair tried a number of positions and improvised sex toys to no avail.
"Damnit Alfred, do I need to go find that hulking student of yours to finish what you started?"
"I am shocked! Something is medically wrong with me, and still I try to satisfy you, and then you say this to me? I should be in a hospital having my heart checked!"
"Having this checked you mean. My god Alfred, last week you were a stallion when I told you how I lusted after your student, yet even that no longer moves you?
"Woman! Have you no heart?"
"I've more pulse than this weak bit of flesh."
"And so cruel, after all our time together?"
"Oh yes, the lovingly kept woman berated for speaking the truth! At your advice I never finished my studies, spent years knowing that were your influence withdrawn I would be released from my position here. How would I find employment without your help? Ridden hard once a week and kept from men my own age by the threat of your displeasure. So lucky I am to have fallen in love with my professor."
John winced at the bile in her words. The rod was trembling, was this maybe his anger transferred?
"Has your love faded so swiftly after John saw you? Or was it more than sight? Did he fondle you? Fuck you, before I arrived? You said you were wet from fingering yourself, now I am unsure."
"I have not sought, nor allowed other men to touch me since the day you declared your love for me. Is it that doubt eating you which leaves you impotent? The boy, is just a boy. Sweet to look at but nothing more. Come. get dressed, I'll drive you to the hospital."
"Leave off, how would it look, your delivering me there with the symptoms I'd tell them? As well declare to the four winds you were my mistress."
"Were?"
"You made your heart clear, though never would I abuse my position to threaten you. Take what lovers you will. Take ten at a time for all I care! Take the boy if he's still sweet to you, I saw your loins water as you spoke of him."
John peaked out at the tablou; Melanie reaching out to Alfred as he batted her hand away.
"You'd best hurry, I told him to join Anderson's Sumerian dig. Will the nights before he leaves be enough to satisfy you? Or will you spread for him during the days as well?" He finished pulling on his clothes. "Bah! Leave off woman, you'll not be fired; it would raise more eyebrows than you staying on."
John stepped back and heard the door flung open then slammed shut. he sank down the wall and wrapped his arms around his knees as the sound of Melanie crying filled the office. He wished he'd never agreed to do Simon a favor, never found the damned rod, never decided to study archeology. He dropped the rod, and froze horrified as it rang against the floor before rolling under the copy machine.
"Who, who's there? I have mace! I have, oh god."
John heard quick footsteps as Melanie raced out the office door. He didn't care what would happen when the campus police found him, he was done here. When he got back from the expedition he'd transfer to a different university, try to start over. He shuddered, remembering the feeling of the rod drinking his anger. He didn't, couldn't know how much of what he'd witnessed was due to it. The impotence, that seemed clear, but the other hateful, hurtful things they'd said, was that him, or them?
John dragged himself to his feet and walked across the office. Ms Danvers' purse was laying beside the desk, along with her keys and a silken pile of underthings. John raised the rod and looked at the carving of her, not the slightest bit surprised that he couldn't remember picking it up. She was shivering, and had her hands cupped around her face like she was peering though a window. Her tight nipples pressed against the cloth of her blouse confirmed she hadn't remembered to grab all her clothes as she fled the room. She raised her hand and pounded, John heard nothing. She wasn't in the hallway then. Perhaps she was at the staff exit? The thought of her meeting him as he left made his head hurt. Fear, shame, and lust swirled at the thought of seeing her. Now that he knew she found him attractive her avoiding being alone with him the last two weeks took on an entirely different complexion.
John at the rod on the desk. He stuffed the bottle of oil along with the keys and underthings into her purse and headed down the stairs. He heard her pounding before he saw her shadow against the glass.
"Simon?! I've locked my keys inside!"
John reached for the door and realized he was holding the rod again. He turned, and fumbling for his pocket managed instead to shove it down his pants. The metal felt cold as ice as it settled into his boxer beside his junk.
"Gah! Jesus christ!" John stumbled against the door as he flailed and felt the bar depress.
"Aagh!" Melanie screamed as loudly as John as he tumbled out the door and down the steps to the parking lot.
John had lost all sensation in his crotch, he lay dazed at the bottom of the steps.
"John Tayor, what are you doing with my bag? And my clothes!, my..."
John squinted his eyes shut, anticipating his next sensation would be Ms Danvers macing him. Instead he bent double as searing heat radiated from the rod in his crotch. He no longer cared what magic the rod possessed, he just wanted the pain to stop. And just like that it was gone. He covered his eyes, then peeked out. Ms Danvers was standing completely still, aside from breathing. She was holding out her empty hand, and John spotted the bottle of mace lying on the ground beside him. Melanie's pupils were dilated. Aside from her gentle breathing she seemed immobile as a statue.
John rolled to his feet and staggered a few steps to the side. Melanie continued to stare at the ground where he'd been laying. John gingerly patted his crotch, but everything felt perfectly normal. No cold, no heat, no magic rod. He searched the ground nearby, no rod. Simon's Jeep Cherokee was parked nearby, john walked over and peered beneath it. As he did he heard a whine and yelp. He glanced in the window and saw a large dog sitting in Simon's passenger seat.
"Hey boy," John said patting the window, "I'm sure Simon will be right back." John paused, wait, hadn't Simon left to pick up his kids? that was easily an hour ago by now, right before John found the rod had...changed. He looked at the dog in Simon's car. It looked an awful lot like the carving of Simon he'd turned into a dog. John felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach and began frantically searching for the rod. He glanced over, Melanie hadn't moved an inch while he'd been doing all this. He looked back at Simon's Jeep.
"Turn back turn back turn back turn back--" John felt a stinging in his hand. embedded in his palm appeared to be a flat bronze bezel showing a drawing of a dog turning back into Simon. John started toward the Jeep as he heard the engine roar to life. He leaped out of the way as the vehicle careened backwards before turning and tearing out of the lot. John looked at the picture of Simon on his palm, he was clearly terrified. John wished he'd calm down and come back so John could talk to him. He felt a warmth running from the tip of his penis up his spine. He heard the squealing tires fade, and in a couple minutes Simon's Jeep turned back into the employee parking lot.
Simon lowered the window as he pulled up alongside John. He never even glanced at the immobile woman staring at the ground.
"John."
"Uh, hey Simon. Sorry to wake you up, guess you nodded off in your Jeep." John could feel his fear draining away the same way his anger had.
"Yeah, guess I was more tired than I thought. I'd rouse up each time my phone went off but couldn't seem to wake up. Good thing for me you came along."
"Yeah, good thing. Hope your kids are alright." John felt a tingle running up and down his spine.
"Oh I'm sure they're just heartbroken at getting to spend more time in the arcade." Simon said heartily.
John smiled. "Alright, you have a good one!"
"You too!"
John watched Simon pull a u-turn, his headlights flashing across the motionless Melanie before he pulled out of the parking lot.
John tried to figure out what had just happened. Simon seemed to have forgotten being turned into a dog, while he'd felt something like the trembling the rod had done while Alfred and Melanie fought. 'I did that.' John realized. He'd wanted to take Alfred's place as Melanie's lover, and they'd had a fight over her wanting him, and Alfred had broken off their relationship.
"Jesus Christ, I just ruined her life out of lust and jealousy."
He looked over at her and willed her to move again. He felt the heat race from his penis to his brain, and the the tingling begin in his spine.
"Mr Taylor?" Melanie clutched her purse to her chest. "Thank you for bringing me this, I take it you over-heard Alfred and I?"
"I'm sorry, yes, I'd just turned out the light in the copy room when you came in, and I didn't want to startle you in the dark. I thought I'd wait until you left but..."
"Ah, yes. 'But' Indeed. You mustn't feel responsible, what happened tonight has been a long time coming."
"Still, I'm sorry."
"Thank you. I hope he'll be alright."
"I'm sure he'll be fine. How are you?"
"Shaken. Saddened. And rather chilled at the moment."
"We could step inside out of the wind?"
"No, if we did that I don't think I'd be able to maintain my composure."
"Do you live near campus? I could walk you to your building."
"I'd like that."
She began walking and John fell into step beside her. After a few feet she hung her purse on the shoulder away from John, leaving him a clear view of her breasts bouncing back and forth in her tight blouse as she walked. The tingle spiked, making john lose his pace and hurry to keep up. When next he looked at Ms Danvers she was watching him out of the corner of her eye.
"It's quite uncomfortable you know."
"I'm sorry?"
"Going braless like this, they'll be sore tomorrow, but you deserve some kind of reward for your gallantry."
"I, um, you don't need to..."
"Well I can't very well whip my top off and pull on my bra here in the street, what would people say?"
"They'd say, 'hey, look at that beautiful half-naked woman, what a lucky guy that is standing beside her.'"
"Are you feeling lucky, Mr Taylor? Alfred never did manage to bring me off, and were it not for this chilly weather I suspect I'd have had my way with you at the bottom of the steps."
John flinched at her casual admission.
"My apartment's couple minutes from here." he managed to choke out."
"How fortuitous! Perhaps you can think of something to help warm me up on the way over?" She gave him another sidelong look. "Tell me, what did you think when you walked in on me last week?"
'Holy god what amazing breasts.'
Melanie crowed with laughter.
"Truely? Well you did seem to have trouble tearing your eyes away from them." She skipped lightly setting her breasts bobbing up and down in her top.
"Do you know what my first thought was?" She looked at John, who shook his head. 'If I'd been quicker with my knickers I could be having sex right now."
"Seriously!?"
"Cross my heart and hope to die. I'd never realized how much waiting for Alfred had gotten on my nerves, weekly assignations in the dark followed by the long cold walk home." She stepped over and wrapped her arm around John's waist, looking up at him. "You won't make me walk home afterwards, will you?"
John slid his arm around his supervisor, pulling her close and answering her with a kiss.