Natalee's Fantasy

What I like most about girls, is their fantasy.

Yes, Natalee has superb tits and a great ass, and she know how to dress.

Yes, she's an excellent cook (or she knows which catering service to call - I don't care, the shrimp ravioli she fed me that first Tuesday was excellent, and when we met again last Tuesday her place smelled strongly of Moussaka, and though I'm not normally a fan of lamb, my mouth is still watering when I think back of it).

She has a sweet character too, very compassionate and understanding, very much like her brother.

But the reason why I'm going back again this Tuesday, is that she told me her fantasy, last time. When I was at the door, about to leave, at 11.30 pm, she took my wrists and brought her face to mine as to kiss me good bye. And then she whispered in my ear.

"When I saw you in the rain, I couldn't stop looking at you. I felt so guilty, it being Simon's funeral and all, but I couldn't help but want you. When you came up to me at the reception, I considered to fake that I was crying, so that I could sneak to the back with you, and that you could do me right there and then. I was afraid you could smell how wet I was. You saved me from myself by having that nosebleed, you know that?"

She let go of my wrists and leaned back. I reached in my right pocket and clenched the packet of tissues.

"Shall I see you again next Tuesday?" I said, and turned to the door so that she couldn't see me lick the blood from my upper lip.

"Same place, same time," she replied. And I walked off without turning round. So cool. I bet she saw me get the tissue out of my pocket before I bled on my shirt.