Harem?

There are 6 women in the house. And myself. That makes 7. And 1 man. Just 1. To look at it, it would seem like the most professional business in the world. Dig deeper. It's just an uppa' class harem. And since it's uppa' class, the man doesn't get to enjoy his 'wives' the way Arab harems are run. I'm not very sure if that is what he'd like to do. But I am oh so sure that that is precisely what the females would love to do. Given the opportunity. But there's a catch. Because they never get the opportunity. I wonder why. Because they really try. And people who try should get rewarded for their efforts. Well, that's what I think about little people. I just don't think the same about these other 6 women's efforts. And it's tough to try when there's a vigilant eye. Yet, so intent are they on their mission, they ignore the vigilant eye and try their best anyway. And I'm not talking about any professional mission. It's the mission called leaning-in-on-the-one-man-seductively, looking-one-man-straight-into-his-eyes-holding-the-gaze-then-retiring coyly, touching-the-arm-of-one-man-repeatedly,floating-about-in-skirts-so-short-that-they-could double-up-as-a-bandanna,adjusting-their-non-existent-cleavage-a-hundred-times-per-morning... and glaring at mine with envy. Because yes, I actually have a cleavage, I don't need to try and create one with some sock in my bra. I don't need to lean on int, I don't even need to hold a gaze flirtatiously. And of course I wear bandannas... on my head of course. True, most times I could pass as a drag queen. But then of course I could, I'm a queen, and effortlessly I drag all the other six through the mud. Because there's no harem, and never will be. Sorry girls.