Ginger kisses the Professor

She kissed him deeply, her tongue exploring his mouth as her hand unbuckled his pants. His hand squeezed her firm breast harder, and he pinched her nipple as his libido, long suppressed, began taking over his actions.

Ginger's hand delved inside his unbuttoned pants and wrapped around his hardness. The Professor gasped, nearly dropping his pipe into the sand. Her touch was expert, confident in a way that made him wonder how many leading men she'd seduced between takes.

"My goodness," he breathed, his scientific vocabulary failing him completely.

"Not bad, Professor," Ginger murmured appreciatively, stroking him with practiced precision. "I'd say you're quite well-equipped for a man of science."

His hands trembled as they explored the curves beneath her negligee. The silky fabric slid easily over her skin, revealing more of her with each caress. In the flickering firelight, her body was a study in golden shadows and soft contours.

"Perhaps we should move somewhere more... private," he suggested, glancing nervously toward the lean-tos where the others slept.

Ginger shook her head, her auburn hair catching the firelight. "No one's going to wake up. Besides," she added with a mischievous smile, "I've always wanted to make love under the stars. Haven't you?"

The Professor couldn't say that he had—his fantasies typically involved laboratories and like-minded scientists—but at this moment, with Ginger's hand working magic below his waist, he couldn't imagine wanting anything else.