Here’s where the story begins: One night, feeling empty I called God. Said I wanted a creature embodying all the feminine, an hour later, she walked in.

I watched in disbelief as a step started a lone violin, her walk queued a dozen, amazed by this skill I invited her in.

She put other sad girls to shame, for she had a soundtrack to her walk. Steps accompanied by music is what every girl wants, an orchestra or a live band playing as if directed by her hips. Full lips writing melodies as she speaks.

Ancient profession and she’s a professional, we’re all poets and lovers, a player playing wonderful music as I bade in her thighs, kiss the sides of her wide hips. Fingers running… Down. Her abdomen aching for me to get inside. Tongue barely brushing by. Feeling the pain in your left thigh as I become the passion to the right so I… Stop. You ask why and I say: “Not yet” You laugh it of, grab me and we’re at it again, grab your neck, squeeze those hips, hold your knees, kiss those lips… Pushed you of, said goodnight, left the room.

Caught me quick, with an attitude, said you lost.

Paid for ****

Now I’m the *******