A Fine Juice
“You know that she is married don’t you?” a voice whispered in his ear.
Pietr turned his head and red locks of hair almost blocked his view. It was the woman that had attracted his eyes as he entered the room. She was tall, he imagined six feet without shoes, but now in heels she towered. Very elegant in an ice blue cocktail dress that flattered and clung to her slim body. Just enough cleavage was displayed to keep a guy's eye from wandering too far from it. The warm smile showed white teeth which distracted beneficially from the slightly thin upper lip.
The voice reinforced it's original message, “She is married, and very happily too.”
Pietr smiled up at her, “that maybe so but it doesn’t prevent a red-blooded man from enjoying his own fantasy of himself and the lady, if circumstances were, shall we say, 'different'.”
