«D-Damn, it really is true… sigh… that Melania doesn't look twelve at all… sigh…» Veronica slurs, clumsily trying to undress through the haze of alcohol, ready for a nice hot shower with me.
We're in our bedroom right now — it's as big as our loft in Manhattan all by itself — while Naomi, Britney, and Melania's room, just as huge, is at the exact opposite corner of the house. That distance, combined with the soundproofing the bedrooms are equipped with, guarantees us a certain… privacy.
«Yeah, I told you she looks almost like someone my age, didn't I?» I reply — my eyes glued to Veronica's increasingly naked body as I turn on the hot water in the shower, patiently waiting for her to get rid of all her clothes.
«Yeah, she really does look like someone your age… sigh… and on top of that, she's also really beautiful…» Veronica points out, with a faint trace of melancholy in her voice.
Oh, no… that tone can only mean one thing — I know exactly what's about to happen…
