Fifteen turned her face, slightly tilting her head, raising the corners of her lips to look at his face, then she stuck out her tongue and licked her lips, "I'm actually a bit thirsty, could you... help me pour a glass of lemon water?"
Her movements were teasing.
Dad used to say that all men are creatures led by their desire, and she believed he would be no exception.
As long as she used a little trick, he would, like all those other guys, collapse into a heap in front of her.
Then, she could take his painting, his apple, his cloisonné enamel ashtray... everything she wanted!
"I only have red wine here," Phoebe said.
"That's even better." Her voice softened, flirting like a feather skimming past the ear.
Phoebe turned around and walked towards the wine cabinet.
She quietly opened her handbag and held the small syringe in her palm.
Moments later, Phoebe returned, holding two glasses filled with dark red wine.
