Called Him Sir—Then Daddy

Monica sat at her kitchen window, her gaze lingering on the muscular stranger across the street. The man was a vision, his skin glistening with sweat, his muscles flexing as he moved furniture with ease. He was unlike any man she had ever seen, his dark skin a stark contrast to the white world she had known for so long. She felt a stirring in her core, a need that had been suppressed for too long.

Monica was no stranger to desire, but she had always been the one to suppress it, to push it down and focus on the practicalities of life. But now, as she watched the man across the street, she felt a longing that was impossible to ignore. She wanted him, wanted to feel his body pressed against hers, wanted to feel his hands exploring her curves.

She had been living in her quiet suburban home since her divorce, a time filled with too much solitude and not nearly enough excitement. But now, with Stefan just next door, she could feel a spark in the summer air, an electric charge that promised to ignite the embers of her long-dormant passion.