2
WYATT
As we stepped through the front door, I asked after Emily's well being. General concern about her well being. Such banal words in comparison to my thoughts. I desperately wanted to f**k her on the kitchen table, or on a bed, or against the wall, but I could only claim her as I wanted after I made sure she was well after her journey. It was the gentlemanly thing to do, although that courtesy was tenuous at best.
She stood just inside the door, looking to her left into my office, to the right into the living area and tilted her chin back to look up the wide staircase leading to the second floor. Her eyes were wide, curious. Glancing at me sideways through lovely, long lashes, she replied, "I am rather hungry."
Was she being intentionally alluring and pulled in by her siren's song
