Lenore, you are a naughty, naughty girl and aliens have just forced me to fall in love with you, because surely a nice girl like me would never lust after all these gorgeous, sweaty, sex-drenched scenarios that you've presented for our delectation unless aliens or pollen or something forced me to.

*sigh* Why must I be at work? Why can't I be home daydreaming about scenario A?