Even eight inch celery stalks shooting out of her salad can’t distract Shirley from making googly eyes at Donald. William, however, seems to be admiring the luster of his Cheviot tweed.
Who needs a carbonated beverage when hot and hunky Randy is only a meter away, and his Chanel Pour Monsieur is wafting toward you on the wings of love, mingled with the musky scent of teen athlete? Focus, Joyce, or you’ll drop your pom.
Hormones are high all around. Looks like she’s got designs on this guy.
The sight of Bill literally made Sally’s jaw fall open.
Too much nuzzling!
A’courting we shall go.
He shall be mine by nightfall. I will yet ensnare him.