You’re upset that I never hang out with you and insist we play a game. How about a staring contest? You make me stare into your mesmerizing eyes. You up the challenge by lowering, then removing your glasses. You’re impressed, but have a pretty good idea how to throw me off my game. You unbutton your top, revealing more of your cleavage. You mention that I’m starting to look weak. You tease me with your breasts and move them up close without breaking eye contact. I finally lose and am rendered a staring, drooling mess. You laugh and tell me the game was just a way for you to mesmerize me; no one can resist your spell, not even you.