Dream of Pie

Layla stands in the doorway, her loose robe barely clinging to her sultry form.

“Ethan…” she beckons, curling a finger invitingly.

Chewing her lip, she steps backward, motioning to be followed.

“You liked my pie?”

Her voice is sweet. Too sweet. Sweet enough to rot teeth.

“I’ve got another flavor for you to try…” reaching down she strokes her thigh, pulling up her hem.

“Wanna taste it? Just come over and…”