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One

Noah Abramovich

“Boys will be boys, young men must sow their wild oats,

and women must not expect miracles”

– Little Women, 1869

Tasha Evanoff! Blonde, blue eyes, plump mouth, and skin so white, it’s alold

What the fuck is she doing at the door of my office?

For a fraction of a second I actually think IHow can I not be? In that frozen instant I hear babushka’s throaty old voice again

‘Listen carefully to ht of this world, it loses its aic never goes away The urge sits beyond the reach of memory and waits, because soic will cross paths with hiain’

Tasha Evanoff is ic

Not a living soul knows this, but I have secretly lusted after her for years I forced nificent living roo on the sun lounger by the pool because I knew our worlds were never meant to collide

Today she has wandered unbidden into mine

Closing the door, she leans seductively against it, her sexual energy radiating across the roohter of an obscenely rich and corrupt th white dress teaan, and low heeled, round-toed, immaculately white pu of dusky white pearls grazing her throat, and velvet black clips holding her shining curtain of shoulder-length hair back from her face

The intention behind her choice of attire is obviously not erotic Virginal even, but the sexual tension co frone It puts h alert

I stand

‘Hello, Noah,’ she drawls Her father is a Russian bastard, but her mother comes from British blue-blood stock and her accent is pure upper class

‘Why are you here, Tasha?’ I ask My body is taut and hor all over the place, but my voice comes out flat and devoid of all expression

‘Surely, you’re going to allow me to sit first,’ she says with a hint of irritation

‘Of course’ I wave towards the chairs opposite my desk