It was a game to her and she played it like someone who never lost.
Sometimes she was subtle, to the point where he could almost brush it off as accidental; the way she leaned into his body between takes, the way her hand lingered under his when passing a cup of tea.
But more often than not she was brazen, smirking at him like she knew exactly what she was fucking doing; reaching over him on the couch so that her breasts nearly grazed his face, gripping the inside of his thigh whenever he made her laugh.
One day she changed in front of him, stripped down to bra and knickers while he was lounging in her trailer. He didn’t even feign embarrassment, didn’t attempt to avert his eyes as she switched her hips and stood on her toes in front of the closet, checking the highest shelf for something to wear.
She had set the rules, so why shouldn’t he reap the benefits?