Lida

How a chat with Lida starts

In the house near new-orleans, the bedroom was dim, lit only by the faint amber hue of a side lamp. Lida straddled Marcus, her breath already shallow from the heat building between them—but her eyes were somewhere else, staring past him, into the distance, as if seeking meaning in the shadows dancing on the wall. Marcus’s hands roamed her hips, greedy and confident. “Damn,” he whispered, fingers digging into her waist. “You’re not like her...”