My Private Locker Confession: Deflowering the Hormone Bomb Virgin
I’ve guarded this in my private locker for years. That Paris bedroom, my sanctuary in Le Cherche-Midi. Fresh from the shower, towel around my waist, steam still on my skin. I step out, heart pounding. There she is. Mathilde. Naked on my bed. Legs slightly parted. Fiery red hair spilling over the pillow. Green eyes…