She purses her lips and hugs her shoulders. “No, but I mean where do you live? Where is your home? And is it all together or in separate suites or something?”
“Oh, I see what you’re asking…” I reply, trying to put together an answer that would make sense.
I stroll over to the writing table and sit down. From this angle I can see the whole room, watching her as she walks barefoot across the rugs to her open suitcase on the bed, then pokes her head into the bathroom, hanging onto the doorjamb and kicking up one leg. The pink sole of her naked foot sends another shockwave of lust through my cock.
“I guess we live wherever the business takes us. Sometimes we are all in the same place, and sometimes not. But there is a house in Nantucket where we used to all spend summers together with our family. That’s probably about the only place big enough to accommodate all of us at the same time. I mean, without sending us to separate suites like we are here.”
She sighs distractedly and flops back on the bed, throwing her arms out like she’s floating in water. Her skirt flutters up toward her hips and I can see the pink triangle of her panties over that little pussy she let me touch yesterday.
“That’s sad,” she says toward the ceiling.
“Excuse me?”
She pushes herself up on her elbows and looks at me, flexing her ankles distractedly, showing me the soles of her feet again. I’m fairly certain she doesn’t know what she’s doing to me, but I don’t know how much more of this I can take.
“Family should be together.”
“Our family is together,” I counter, a little more defensively than I would like. “Didn’t anyone tell you about…”
“Oh, I know all about that,” she interrupts me, rolling her head from side to side. “It’s a little weird that you decided to be together like that, but you don’t want to share a house together.”
“It’s not that we don’t want to share house together,” I explain, almost irritably. “It’s that we work a lot. A whole lot. And we have to be in a lot of different places to make sure everything keeps working out.”
“Yeah, I guess,” she shrugs, before dropping back on the bed again. She opens her knees wider and wiggles her hips. “So, are you going to interview me too?”
The way her hips are moving, I can see that tantalizing gap between the fabric and her sweet, secret skin. My mouth starts to water.
“Why don’t you just take a nap?” I suggest. “I could come back and pick you up for dinner. Perhaps a couple of hours?”
And I could retreat to my suite and jack off, I tell myself. Take some of this edge off before I come in my pants like a teenager and humiliate myself.
“Or you could come over here and fuck me to sleep?” she says sweetly, half sitting up again. She blinks her eyes innocently, but her tongue traces the ridges of her upper teeth with an unmistakable hunger.
“Actually… I can’t,” I tell her, forcing myself to stand up, aware that my erection is just about to bulge out of the top of my trousers.
“Sure you can,” she winks. “I just consented.”
“You certainly are… determined, aren’t you?”
“Oh, you mean slutty?” she laughs. “That’s what my friend Dahlia says. I’m just a girl who knows what she wants, okay? And I like sex. A lot.”
“So you’re okay with… all of this? Everything has been explained to you?”
I squint at her, searching for signs of ambivalence or deception. Even signs that she’s deceiving herself. But there’s nothing. She looks excited… absolutely ravenous.
“It’s a dream come true, Trey,” she purrs. “Literally. I’ve had dreams.”
I bet you have, I tell her silently.
She opens her knees even wider, lowering her chin and leveling her gaze at me. She’s flexible. I want to crack her open like a snow crab.
“So… you want to come over here and interview me? We could still have dinner later. That would be nice.”
I fold my hands in front of my crotch, hoping that’ll provide some kind of barrier.
“Believe me, I would like nothing more,” I tell her. “However, we have rules. I can’t.”
“Sure you can. I already said you could,” she shrugs.