Little Goat Mountain bewusstsein

Aww, Wylla exclaimed before she could stop herself. Maybe it was just having the opportunity to rib Mahler in a non-aggressive fashion, but she'd genuinely been having fun, and she'd been learning more about him. That the sight of her splayed thighs could shut him down so completely ...

Her blood rushed in her ears all of a sudden and finally some shame came to her. I ... That was cruel, she acknowledged, eyeing him cautiously as she gathered her paws beneath her. We don't have to play anymore if you don't want. She wasn't sorry, though; in doing that she learned more still, and wasn't sure whether to feel interested by what she'd learned or frightened.

It was always possible he was a celibate monk, too, and she'd been highly improper, which might be even worse. We have work to do, right? she said, clearing her throat and bending to gather a bone into her jaws to bear back to the pack. In so doing, she unwittingly (and unintentionally, for once) hoisted her slight derriere directly into his line of sight to add insult to injury.

The more awkward the better right?