Spread wide and tied

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Clara felt a tingle down deep in her cunt and attributed it to nerves. Her small suitcase bobbed in Wil's easy grasp as he led the way down the hallway to his apartment. She couldn't stop wondering if he had really meant what he had said, or if he had just been talking through his hat.

The strangely shaped, high-ceiling room was certainly hot enough. She dropped her coat, draped it over the arm of one of the easy chairs. She checked her reflection in the mirror on the sliding door of the tiny kitchen. The apartment was in an old brownstone which had once housed a single family. Years before the building had been hacked up into apartments. Bathrooms and kitchens were crammed into unlikely nooks and corners.

"Can I get you a drink?" Wil asked after taking his coat off.

"How about one of your famous whiskey sours?" Clara asked, trying to ignore the sweat on her palms. Cripes, she was acting as if she was still a virgin or something. Probably he wouldn't really do it. She leaned against the doorframe, and watched as he poured out two frothing sours.

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