When she wanted somethin bad enough, she got sweet like high fructose corn syrup.
She would turn her head to an angle most becoming through his eyes of her figure, a calculation she fine tuned in response to the f-stop of his dilated pupils. Her lashes flicked like butterflies alighting.
The moment his attention shifted from the galaxy s, operation tweet unfollow, to her revival theatrics sillhouette girlfriend experience, she popped the suddenly rhetorical question…
“Do you think maybe you could help me out?”
K IS SILENT 