Lola is being a brat.
Her office is closed today. She wants me to stay home with her and I can’t, so she’s acting up.
First, it was pouting. Those soft lips of hers, tinted pink, puckering into a perfect little rosebud while her chin dimpled, and her Wedgewood blue eyes glittered with tears. She has this way of inclining her head and looking up at me through her dolly lashes. It looks innocent enough, but the way she pulls her arms in and leans forward so I follow the line of her eyes, to her pout, to her cleavage reveals it for what it is.
Manipulative little so-and-so. Every other time I’ve seen her pull that trick I’ve grabbed her and kissed her breathless, so why she thought it would work today is anybody’s guess. Continue reading “Oh, Lola”