|Good girls like good cops.
Paying the price of beauty buys me the picture of a gentleman: the arresting pleasures of protection.
Splayed bare as a gallery wall, I'm a human canvas under his stroking hands.
My art is to purr, "give it to me."
|Bad girls like bad girls.
I've developed a taste for the smug arched eyebrow of a cell phone set to "vibrate," the clawed edge that calls nipples to sharpness.
On my carnivorous tongue, the mortal trickle of blood paints the switchbacks of a breast, a whip, a redred lip.
I'll take two (of a kind).