Our eyes meet. I see passion, pitter-pattering feet, and greying hair. You get off the bus anyway. Third time I’ve fallen for you this week.
Dear Santa, I’ve been very naughty this year. I have the video to prove it. Meet me for milk and cookies; we can watch it together. Yours truly.
Daffodils push dead leaves aside, eager to get at the sun. Cherry trees bloom, fragrantly snowy. You welcome me with a kiss, in a tank top.
The rope marks on her skin were like smoke, barely seen across the breakfast table. His breath quickened with the memory of her submission.
“Make a wish,” my wife said. “Make love to Mia,” I murmured inaudibly. My wife saw my lips move: “Not aloud! Otherwise it won’t come true.”
Dwarfed by the shadow of the monster, she silently spread her roots and trapped him. He kneeled before her and smiled.