Arching into his touch, April is surprised by the complete lack of control she feels right now, by how easily she's handed that over to Les without so much as a second thought. Being in control is what sex had been about for most of her life, it's been a way to get people to do what she needs, a way to ensnare men and women alike until she's done with them, until they've served their purpose and then she -- and always she -- ends it. But she's letting Les touch her however he wants. She's lying on her back on his bed instead of hovering over him, she's given him the position of power instead of taking it from him and she doesn't mind at all. And she's not thinking about how and when this will end.

"My food ordering abilities are my best quality," she says with a laugh, but her lips part and a soft gasp escapes as Les bushes his lips over her skin, as he unhooks her bra. She props herself up on her elbows long enough to take it off, nudging it off and onto the floor and she doesn't lower herself back down to the bed just yet, she only watches him, watches the press of his lips against her stomach.

What she wants, more than anything, is to just strip him down, get him naked, feel the heat of his skin against hers, but she's always rushed through sex, too. She's always made it good, but it's always been aggressive and fast and rough, and having someone treat her like this, it's... very different. And she can't entirely say she minds it. "It must have been the pickles that got me," she adds, dropping her head back down onto the bed with a soft moan.