It was then that our lust became us.
His thoughts were no longer occupied with the taste of his coffee or with the expiring bus ticket he held in his loosening hand. The figments of her were captured in his eyes. What else was there in the world if she wasn’t apart of it…except for an eluded sense of detached avoidance?
She struck him as the kind of woman who could satisfy every ruthless desire a man could muster…that is, if he could keep up with her. The leather skirt that kept exposing more of her skin as she stood waiting for him suggested no signs of sophistication.
How he longed to teach her a thing of two about modern love and romance, but she wouldn’t comprehend it; her aura had a lackluster feeling to it. Love as she knew it could be no more than a pseudo sympathetic gesture. He would spend his entire life trying to change her nature if she allowed it.
Then the time came where she stood not six inches away from him, with her skin looking so soft it appeared moist, and her perplexed eyes taking him in. How she loved to take men in.
She stole a picture and a kiss from him. How she loved her loveless souvenirs. |
Submission Name: Our Lust Became Us.
