It was a house furnished with nothing else but darkness. There was shuffling, the shifting of a door, the closing of another. There was chuckling from...another room muffled as if a cast aside memory by the sheer space its mirror had to reflect. Frescoing her cunt with laps of saliva, licks of bedewed fluid streaming down her crest. Ducking up for air and leaning over her handsome body, he dabbed the tip of his cock upon the conscience of her physical pleasure. Then perching back down again,. Nothing happened that evening, though I became quite suspicious of their interactions. I had that feeling that Phillip was a player -- he was just that kind. He was too smooth. He had a bachelors degree in English, and his masters was reportedly in Romance Novels. He dabbled in art, and was a musician. He wasn't exactly ugly, and had a "nice" personality -- regardless, I didn't trust him at all, although I had no reason! Later I discovered, ok, through some actions of my own that were not. More

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