She had a fire that burned so hot I lost five pounds from the sweat alone. Her passion was so serious it felt like she was trying to prove something. She wanted nothing more than to hear the world drown out to the sounds of wet flesh, heavy breathing and her own voice yelling to my ceiling. The flames would burn through her clothes so she got into the habit of taking them off when the doors closed. The alcohol consumed made nights with her seem cheap and naughty like words ripped from the pages of hard-boiled detective fiction in paperback with an eight dollar price tag. I sparked up conversation every chance I could to try to bring humanity to something that was hopelessly primal. But, she was inextinguishable. She was insatiable. She was violins and cellos. She was a full moon over smooth brown hills. She was a pack of wolves. And she always, always wanted more [DIRTY-WORDY].
February 28, 2008...8:44 pm
Always More
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