Thatcher had an overactive imagination. It's part of what made him so successful in the financial world. While most of his colleagues strictly had a head for numbers, he had the ability to dream and extrapolate and identify exactly which penny stocks would someday net him a fortunate. This tendency towards fantasizing had been in full-effect since Tanya arrived and he found himself painfully curious about her choice of underwear. He imagined white lace, black satin, even simple gray Calvin Kleins. The revelation of the red g-string was a surprise that triggered his brows to rise up and his eyes to illuminate like a kid surveying his spoils beneath a Christmas tree. This gave way to fantasies of her giving him little surprises every single day.<br/><br/>"Fuck," he said affirmatively, clearly approving of both her fashion choice and the way her hand greedily reached for his bulge. He let her cup it just. long enough, their bodies pinned together, for her to recognize that all eight inches of him was rigid inside his Levi's. Then he took her hands off her and took a step back. As he did, he pulled her leather jacket from her shoulders until gravity took it to the floor. She was still in her sweater and boots. Her jeans were still only around her thighs. But he couldn't wait a second longer for the view he was most eager to see.<br/><br/>One hand went to her left calf, the other to the middle of her back. He simultaneously pushed her forward and lifted her foot up, giving her choice but to go onto her hands and knees. Her knees on the trunk, her hands on the bed. He had travelled the world and seen some of the finest works of art. He'd admired the Mona Lisa and gazed upon the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel. But none of it compared to Tanya's tight body on all fours, the red lace of her underwear stretched tautly over her holes.<br/><br/>Thatcher dropped to his knees with a<i>thud </i>his face level with her rear. His left hand rose up in the air and thundered down on her left ass cheek with a resounding<i>SMACK</i>. His tatted fingers grabbed ahold as they made contact. It took all the will he could muster to keep from drooling.<br/><br/>"I was going to make us dinner," he growled, "but now I'm thinking I'll just eat you instead." He snickered at the lameness of his own joke. "The question is which part of you will I devour first?" He squeezed her buttcheek tighter.