His lips made her a slave to his desire.

So devious, so confident, and so daring.

The position was hers. Never did she fall into the category of desiring until she met him.

A mind fuck all around, he took her strength and played with it like clay in a sculptors palm.

Her patience for him never ending, it was her suffering that made him ignite.

A youthful brunette she was, at the time, completely drowned with obsession.

Her intelligence resembled his, but never leveled to it fully.

Sitting there, for days she would wait for his reply, a minute passed as if an hour, constant questions, promises unkept, and lifeless breaths.

Her heart once loved.

The light in the hotel room dims, as she opens yet another bottle from the mini bar.

Grand Marnier slides her into the rarely visited memory crematorium.

Perhaps a desire to numb, or perhaps the desire to feel herself back in his arms, either way, her vulnerable side began to show.

Could she keep doing this?

Flashes of all the victims pass through her mind like drops in a rainstorm. 

Could she?

Of course she could.

It was the dear acquaintance of an asshole that pushed her to it in the first place.

She has always preferred ripping male flesh anyway.

The lamp dims to a darkness, and the hotel sheets wrap around her. 

Tomorrow’s mission is a long one indeed.

“You know, I am probably not going to forget this little escapade my whole life.”

“Hmm, you might not have that chance, dear sir.” as she winks at him.

He pulls up his pants and exits the car.

He seemed tired, and she did not want to risk any unplanned accidents.

“How do I know where to find you?” he yells while she drives away.

She brakes causing the tires to smoke sweet little forms.

“Trust me. If I need to, I will find you.”

The confusion on his face causes satisfaction in her secretive soul and as she drives away, he smiles ironically.

His wallet, license, and social security are all in her possession.

He thinks, “Yeah, I guess she can find me.”, while walking into the city of sin and fortune.

Changing gears, she pops the new “Fluke” CD into her stereo. An excursion of interesting proportion will take place, different than most, this is unplanned.

This is instinct.

This is desire.

This is Lust.

Her plump lips mumble along to  ”Snapshot” by her most favorite artists in sound and adrenaline, Fluke.

A beautiful blonde on the right side of the strip, a handsome fellow on the left.

Oh so many opportunities.

Oh so many.

Perhaps a good quality coffee is in order, you know, before the show begins.

Just a little.