Jessica doesn't trust men. Worse, she has a string of short relationships and runs away when things get too serious. Demons from her past resurface when she meets him, Angel Seth Saint, her new teacher with a burning look. And, even if the young wom...
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Yet I let her have the room. At least when she gets ready, she has her attention on something else. And most importantly, she forgets about me. I really hope she has forgotten Angel and won't ask more questions about him. Because I won't answer her! The subject is closed. Say you want to keep it to yourself...
The reason doesn't matter. I don't want to talk about him and especially not with that busybody. She would be able to spy on him, after having told my mother everything. And then how do you broach the delicate subject of BDSM? In any case, it's none of her business! I don't ask her about her love life.
It helps me move on. I'd better focus on my outfit. I need to figure out where to get dressed. I try to use the bathroom but it's already busy.
"Charly, hurry up! You're a guy, what's taking you so long?"
"Not everyone dresses like a homeless bitch, Jess. Take some notes!"
"I don't dress like a homeless bitch!"
"I am sorry, did I offend you?"
I decide not to answer. If I really want him to open that damn door, I'll have to be more subtle.
"Come on, open it...please."
"In ten minutes."
"Chacha!"
"TEN MINUTES!" he yells louder.
I give up. I'm going to get dressed in the hallway, even though it's cramped as hell. That'll teach me to live with two divas. You selfish bastards! What if I hurt myself putting on my dress? They don't care. They don't care about me...not like Angel. The more time passes, the more I miss him.
If he was still in Paris, I would have join him and give those two buffoons a good excuse to leave. I would abandon them in a second! But no. My angel is not here. We'll have to do without. But, that doesn't mean I can't call her. I need my daily dose of sweetness. A little comfort. So I take my phone in hand and take a picture.
You can't see any lower than my bra, hidden by my arm. But it's clear that I'm not wearing much. Enough to torture him a little. He seems to be too happy in Italy, we have to motivate him to come back, right? Otherwise, he might stay there forever.
And why should I be the only one to suffer from the distance? Besides, for once, I even know what to write to him.
Princess
I want you, Sir.
The answer arrives at the speed of light.
Sir
Interesting...
Princess
I've been a good girl. A VERY good girl.
Sir
I see.
I don't know how to continue the conversation. But he is not short of ideas.
