Attaleia had just arrived from her home near the Anatolian Peninsula in Turkey. Named for her heaven on earth, she hoped to return soon, to marry a wealthy man, whom she dated sporadically, but the modeling agency demanded her presence.
Attaleia was no innocent. She knew she may have four good years left, before the agency replaced her with a younger model. She had made it her business to become worldly wise. She was every man’s definition of beauty and she knew it. She put on her very best helplessly forlorn look, and scanned the garage for prey.
She caught the eye of a good looking man and lured him in. She held his appreciative gaze with innocent, pleading eyes.
“Hi. I’m Randy. You seem to be at a disadvantage. Those bags must weigh more than you do. Can I help you with those?”
She could see his hard cock straining the front of his slacks.
“Yes, well, first things first,” she hedged, “Would you be a dear and put them in the trunk,” she asked, handing him the key.
Randy looked perplexed, but set about the task. Attaleia leaned against the bumper watching him, every muscle that tightened, and every strong, angular sinew that was pure, powerful, masculinity. She knew he would be a stupendous lover.
As he turned to reach for the last suitcase, she reached into a bag and extracted a black velvet bag, saying, “I’d like to repay your kindness, Randy.”
“Oh no, that’s not required,” he protested, as she extracted handcuffs from the bag behind her back.
He turned away wishing her happy travels, when she caught his elbows, drew his hands behind him, locked the cuffs around his wrists and said seductively, “I wasn’t asking you. I was telling you”
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