Are they all you? Lenses?" Pure genetics." Lucky-gorgeous-you." "Thanks." You look older too." I cringe at the word. Older!She sees her words have cut, says. "Sorry, I meant in a good way. Like a writer should look: experienced and wise. Still beautiful, though." Did you like 'the book?" I feel I have to ask, only polite. Readers expect it."Oh no, sorry, I've not read it. It's my little sister that's the fan." Oh." God, Arabella, You sounded disappointed."Natalie's obsessed. She tried to get me to read it. That's when I saw your photo on the back cover. But the blurb didn't grab me." then brightening, "Your photo made an impression, though."Now she wears a self-satisfied smile: uniform white teeth that fill a doll mouth beneath lips like the darkest over-ripe fruit. I touch my throat and imagine the tacky residue her kisses might leave, the blackest, dull ache her bite would bring. Laetitia! My God! The things I had you do. I curb those thoughts. They thrill too much. She raises both. She stared at the screen but still there was just a jumble of words. Again her eyes wandered over the top of the screen at she looked at those perfect, shiny black nylon knees and gasped! Now she could see beyond the tops of the stockings. Those wonderful legs were now just separated sufficiently for her to see... Her heart stopped for a millisecond, for what she could see made her head spin. She looked up at the beautiful young woman who was gazing directly at her. “You're not wearing...” she breathed with tremendous effort as her lungs just didn't seem to be working properly any more. “No,” the young woman smiled, parting her legs just a little more, “I never do.” The woman turned her eyes back down and felt her own moisture bubbling inside of her. The pit of her stomach was filled with seemingly millions of butterflies, fluttering, and her breathing was laboured now. Inside she trembled uncontrollably. She saw the prettiest, smoothest flower, glistening with tiny beads of.
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