I’ll be supremely honest.
I want her.
And, it’s a peculiar thing
to want someone you’re
not supposed to want.
There’s something verboten
about it that makes it
all the more desirable.
I want her all the more.
It’s on my brain like a
leech, sucking the
sexy blood from my
head.
Her body, her brains,
her mouth, lips, style,
curves, hair, voice,
softness, laughter,
eyes, quiet, legs.
Heels.
I can’t quite control
myself when she’s
roaming around the
warehouse of my
mind. Looking
through boxes marked
private and confidential,
I let her look though.
I’m helpless in her
mind grasp. I want her
to know that I want her.
I mean, look at her,
leaning over that memory
file cabinet. She’s wearing
that short skirt, I mean, c’mon.
She smiles like a sunrise.
How can I resist?
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