“James, please. It’s not like that and you know it. It was a spur of the moment fling that became something else, something unexpected. If I was truly playing you. If I was truly this harpy you believe I am, would I be standing here before you with my heart on my sleeve?”
“There is a certain something to your words that makes me salivate with anticipation, but I can’t for the live life of me work out what part. Say it again. Word for word. Make me writhe with an ecstasy I haven’t felt in an eon or more,” Flint says as he tightens his eyes and pouts his lips in some sultry manner.
“What has gotten into you of late, you’re acting out of sorts.”
A muffled chuckle escapes his lips. “I can assure you it’s nowhere near as interesting as what’s been getting into you. But that’s a story for another day, another moment in time when the world requires something more substantial than just a gentle nudge.”
“Then why did you call me here if you don’t want to discuss Andre.”
“Who is Andre?” He asks with a broad smile.
Her face pulsates with energy as blood rushes to every inch of her face. “STOP BEING A JERK AND TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT FROM ME!”
“Whatever ever do you mean? I asked you here for nothing more than a moment to remember your face the way it was before the accident,” he stares nonchalantly.
“WHAT IN THE GOOD GOD DAMN FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT! WHAT ACCI….” but her words are cut short as a noise above her instinctively forces her to look upwards, seconds before the plummeting ceiling fan hits her in the face