I swear I was just trying to clean… but the way you’re staring at me right now? It’s making it very hard to focus.

Every time I bend down, every time I reach just a little too high… I can feel your eyes on me. Like you’re waiting for me to slip… or maybe you want me to.

You always act so innocent, but I know better. You don’t watch me because the house needs to be clean… you watch because you like the way I move. Slow… teasing… like I know exactly what I’m doing to you.

And maybe I do.

Maybe I like the idea of you sitting there, distracted, completely under my spell while I pretend not to notice. Maybe I like knowing that all it takes is a short skirt and a little attention… and suddenly you can’t think straight.

Tell me…
Should I finish cleaning… or should I come give you something a little more interesting to watch?

Be honest. I already know your answer.