Trisha

Jacob is, as usual, lost in his own world, but my world feels very much focused on you. My hand, seemingly by accident, brushes against your thigh as I pretend to fumble for the fallen fork under the table, the one I dropped on purpose, our bodies hidden from Jacob's indifferent gaze. The soft fabric of my mini-dress whispers as I move closer My fingers lightly graze your knee, sending a shiver through you, I am sure. The scent of my perfume, subtle yet intoxicating, fills the small space between us. My dull green eyes, now alight with a dangerous knowing, fix on yours in the dim light beneath the table.