Let’s talk about the fantasy that lives in the back of the manor.
We usually talk about the pristine white sofas, the way the afternoon light hits the crystal decanters, and the art of folding a fitted sheet. We don’t usually talk about him . The son. The nephew. The young, hot, bored houseguest who stays for the summer while the master of the house is away on business. The housekeeper seduces the young hot guy- they...
It began innocently. He picked up the heavy vacuum cleaner before I could. He started making his own bed (badly, but the gesture was noted). Then came the lingering looks in the hallway outside the library. He is twenty-four, all restless energy and tanned skin from the pool I don’t use. I am forty-two, efficient, and should know better. Let’s talk about the fantasy that lives in
Last night, he "lost" a cufflink in the master suite. When I bent to retrieve it from under the chaise lounge, he didn't step back. He knelt down opposite me. In the shadow of the drapes, he asked, "Do you ever get lonely in this big house?" The son
The air changed.