International Flavors Pt. 01

And now a day later, as Luna looks up at me, smiling and licking her lips provocatively, I find myself pondering this new and delightful addition to my already over-the-top sex life. It is another complication to an already complex set of circumstances that I have created for myself, and it strikes me that I have no one but myself to blame if those circumstances are beginning to overwhelm me.

But I believe in Murphy's Law, and so somehow I should have known that things could get worse. At the very moment when I am watching Luna staring into a pocket makeup mirror, while she applies her fuchsia lipstick to her absurdly plump kissers, my phone rings. I answer it, somehow self-consciously aware that I sound far too distant and distracted, "Good morning, this is Jason Randall. How can I help you?"

The feminine, English accent trickling from the other end of the line is as familiar as it is impossibly sexy, "Good morning, Jason!" I melt into my office chair. "How are you this fine day?" She doesn't have to introduce herself, because how could I not know that voice?

"I'm good! Excuse me, but can you hold for just one second?"

I click the phone to mute, and when I speak, my voice is louder than I anticipate it should be, "Luna, why don't you take a break? I have a personal call I need to take. Would you excuse me?" She turns to me smiling, with an expression that suggests that she knows the exact nature of this "personal call." She nods politely and, without saying anything, lifts that remarkable body from her chair. She walks toward the door, looking back at me with a knowing grin as she does, and then she closes the door behind her. I unmute the phone.

"Caitlynn! My god, how have you been?"