That next day, dressed to kill, I made my way out of the rear exit of the house, rounded the pool with the sound of my heels informing anyone within a fifty mile radius of my arrival in their direction, before finally coming to the doors of the pool house. It had been years since I had even stepped foot into the rather quaint space full of boxed mementos and childhood keepsakes. But now these French doors did not hold my old Easy Bake Oven or Barbie Dream House, instead, it held a six-foot bronzed charmer with a silver tongue of wicked lust and temptation perpetual in his gaze; definitely something I never would have asked Santa for when I was of the age to believe such gullible lies such as those, but also something I definitely would pray for now...
My knuckles came to the glass upon t
