A watched kettle never boils
Jame's flatmates discover there's more to him than meets the eye.
"Shit," Samantha cursed, turning on the gas stove. "My phone's in my room." I was sitting at our so-called dining table, having just finished my cornflakes, and admiring her choice of clothing: loose vest and sexy knickers. "D'ya want some coffee?" Samantha asked, filling the old kettle with one hand and pulling at the slither of cloth between her if I might say so, delightful buttocks with the other. "Well do ya," she d...