.. Not that I noticed. She was almost half my age but fuck, she was beautiful.I smiled at her. Not knowing why, she just always brought it out of me, ...��Miss. Layla,” I said cheekily, “why aren’t you at the party?”She sat in the chair across from me, “I noticed you were gone and thought I’d make sure you were okay,” she crossed her legs so her skirt came up, “how’s Kristin?”I'd told her about my wife in a moment of venting but I trusted her enough not to tell anyone. I looked at her, almost. Her name was Lila, a twenty-one-year-old brunette. She was short at 5'2, and slim. An artist at heart, she loved to paint more than anything else in the world. Her bedroom was littered with unfinished canvases, just waiting to have the finishing touches placed upon them. Lila's muse was silent tonight. No painting would be done. Another drag brought her cigarette's cherry closer to her bright, full lips, a sign she would soon have to go inside. As chilly as the air was, Lila almost lamented at. More

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