With a sigh, the young missionary sinks into the office chair, her small frame barely contained within her modest clothing. Her fingers dance across the keyboard, typing out her daily report, but her mind wanders. She can't help but think of the men she's met, their strong hands, and the way they look at her. A flush creeps up her neck as she imagines their hands on her body, her own fingers tracing the curve of her breast, the heat between her legs growing. She's always been told that such thoughts are impure, but she can't help but feel a thrill at the taboo.