My friend is talking to me. I hear her droning on about something I don't care about, some shit about a PTA meeting. I nod my head occasionally, pretending to listen to her irrelevant rant... but my attention is devoted to something else.
His supple young body hypnotizes me. The sun beats down on him as he leans over my son's car engine. My son knows nothing about cars, never sparked an interest. Luckily his friend does.
Dammit, this woman is still talking. Must keep up the act. I can't let her know I only invited her over so I can watch her beautiful 19 year old son tweak that sad little vehicle in my driveway.
He comes out from under the hood, and wipes the sweat from his head. His damp brown hair intrigues me. I wonder what it would be like to tug it. He looks over toward me with those stunning green eyes. I should offer him a drink... no. No, let him sweat. His fingers curl under the bottom of his soaked shirt and he lifts it over his head, throwing it to the ground. My breath hitches, as I notice the smoothness of his chest, barely sporting any hair at all.
"Deana, are you listening to me?"
Shit. "Uh, yeah yeah. What would you like me to bring?"
"Bring the plates, I'll take care of the napkins and such."
"Sounds good. Say, uh, can I offer you something to drink, Sharon?"
"Sure, vodka on the rocks would be great."
"No problem."
She turns her head towards the boys and shouts in a VERY annoying voice, "Allen, Roy, do you want something to drink?!" They nod vigorously. "Alright, Allen go help Mrs. Sanders, she's only got two hands!!"
The dripping wet little devil shuffles toward me and I crack a half smile. "Thank you, Allen. Follow me." My voice is sultry, alluring.