Your Birthday

Lilia turned to look at Jean, who was sitting behind the desk. Only then did she realize how cold the floor was under her feet.

"It's not that cold." Lilia said as she continued walking towards the window behind Jean's desk, "You don't usually smoke this much. Did something happen?" She asked, her eyes fixed on the table.

The ashtray made of crystal was full of cigarette butts. One of the cigarettes was still lit on his mouth. It seemed that Jean hurriedly put out the cigarette when Lilia knocked on the door just now.

Before Lilia reached the window, Jean stretched out his hand and pulled her into his arms. To be more precise, the man sat Lilia on his lap. Even though they had done this in Jean's office before, the woman was still struggling and trying to get away. The strong smell of cigarettes mixed with the faint scent of spring was intoxicating for Lilia.