The Boy With The Skull Tattoo 18+ (DISCONTINUED)

20. Under The Bridge: Two

(DREW)

"This is where you sleep?" I asked Anastasia. I followed her shadow leading a trail towards the front door or her house. She led the way turning each light on.

"Yea. I had it for a while now," she said taking off her wool black jacket and laying it down on the doorknob of a closet. I felt to gigantic walking into a small spaced apartment. "Sit Drew." She added guiding me towards the couch. I sat down slowly trying to get comfortable and watched her at the same time.

There were some French words I saw written on the walls that I understood, but couldn't pronounce easily. I squinted my eyes trying to find the right pronunciation to come out my mouth quietly.

"So," she says. " I know it's been a couple days now and so on. I don't want you to feel like I'm pressuring you into anything. I understand if you don't want to model you know," She sat on the side of the couch leaning her back on me. "It's just that I feel like your beauty should be shared with the rest of the world." She said rubbed her thigh legs.

"Thank you. You really think so?"

"Yes! Yes a billion times." She giggled.

I took a deep gulp of spit and swallowed it hungrily.

"Wasn't that so much fun?" She said finally turning around. We locked eyes for a minute until I spoke.

"Yea. Better than I hoped." I slouched pulling my pants down a little bit.

"Good! This is just the beginning my friend." She got up and headed to the kitchen where she spoke loud enough for me to hear her. I took off my jacket laying down to side empty side of the chair next to me.

"I had made some Chicken Dijon earlier," The name skimmed in my head. I instantly remembered the smell when my mother used to make Chicken Dijon. "I saved it for later. It's still warm, would you like some?" She yelled out loud from the kitchen. Before I can answer her, she showed up in front of me with a white dish full of Chicken Dijon. I didn't know how to even look at the plate without drooling. I wanted to devour the chicken so bad, so bad that my stomach didn't care whether I ate too much of it.

"Mm yes!" I said aggressively grabbing a drum stick off the dish and taking a big bite to satisfy my appetite. She smiled at me sardonically.

"Wait there's more where that came from." She pulled out a cart of food with dishes on them.

"You must be a chef!"

"Aha yes part time. I'm trying out new recipes," She removed the plastic wrap off of the plate and offered me a fork. "This is potatoes lyonnaise with lemon and chile." It sounded pretty weird in my ears when the words danced off her tongue. But the way she said lemon and lyonnaise made me cringe. I could feel my mouth watering even more imagining the sour sensation on my tongue. I stabbed the fork so hard you can hear the thud from the plate. I took a piece of potato and mixed it with chile.

What a delicious combination!

"Mhm!" I moaned for the longest!

"You like it?"

"Like? Love! I love it!"