Selling the Drama Read Online Free PDF

possible ramifications that could come from
indulging in the real thing. She appeared to have given up on her
relentless pursuit after five days straight of topless sunbaking
with no further reaction forthcoming from him. She had even put her
underpants back on under those flimsy sundresses she liked to wear.
The days slowly began to be less fraught with sexual tension, and
he found he was able to relax a bit more in her presence, even
going so far as to have a few conversations with her that contained
no sexual innuendo whatsoever.
    None of this changed how much he liked her
though. Whether she was flashing her legs open to him or crossing
them demurely, she had him on his knees. There was very little he
thought about that didn't involve Charlotte and the more she
talked, the more he showed up to listen. She was funny and smart,
loved music and books of all sorts. She was an out of this world
gymnast, not that he knew much about the sport, but her trophies
and medals seemed to speak for themselves. She thought he didn't
watch her while she trained, yet she was so focused on what she was
doing that she didn't notice how he couldn't tear his eyes away
from her. The way she would spin in the air, ribbons wrapping
around her body as she flexed and moved with grace and skill. She
was mesmerising and he could not get enough of looking at her.
    He got to know some of her friends as they
dropped by the house and found them to be girls he could easily
like, for they were also kind and funny, but with an innocence
about them that was entirely devoid within Charlotte. There was a
promiscuity about her that secretly excited him. He had caught
sight of her one afternoon, while she was lying on the couch in the
family room reading, her hand up her own skirt, blatantly touching
herself as she read. She had no knowledge he was there, he was
certain of it, and that fact alone began to cast her into a
different light for him. He had at first thought she was trying to
wear him down in order to trap him, have some power over him with
her parents. Now he wondered if it was nothing more than blatant
desire. He was here, he was male, and she liked sex. He looked for
the book she had been reading later on, when she was out at the
pool. It was a novel filled with the type of sex he had never even
dared to imagine, and he couldn't help but wonder if she read it
for enjoyment or for education. It was hard to tell with her. He
was sure that if he asked her she would be more than happy to tell
him.
    She would read a book like that one day and
then be seen reading a novel by Thomas Hardy or Charles Dickens on
the next. She was a contradiction like no other. She listened to
Pearl Jam and Mozart in the same sitting. She would lie by the pool
with Madame Butterfly screaming out through her earphones, the
words indecipherable to Toby, yet the vision of her lost within the
music so symbolic to him that he couldn't help but want to listen
to it also, to discover what it was within the sounds that she
sought, what she absorbed and took away from the experience. He
found himself becoming slightly obsessed with understanding her, if
such a thing was even possible.
    Now that she was content to sit poolside
with her bikini in place, he felt it safe enough to join her again.
They had fallen into a bit of a routine, lying by the pool in the
mornings, having a swim before eating lunch together, going their
separate ways for a few hours before meeting up by the pool again
in the late afternoon. She was non-intrusive with her topics of
conversation. She asked him questions about his former school and
friends, teased him about whether he had left a girlfriend behind
or not, yet stayed firmly away from the subject of his former home
life. The sensitivity of that was not lost on him.
    "You can ask me about them, you know. My
parents. I won't freak out." It was a big offer. He wasn't entirely
sure if he really wanted to answer any questions about them, but
for her, he was