the slice of orange wedge and cherry sits in the bottom of the rocks glass on top of grains of sugar crystals. the ice long gone. the drink, drained.

the aroma of sweet spirits, intoxication, and lust is sifting through the air. lies of success and happiness slick with the sweat of the poverty stricken, three fifths away from homelessness.

another rocks glass on the bar top. it is filled with brown body, strength, and courage.

the door opens and close. it is a spice that catches my attention. a spice that will become a flame on my lips. a spice that wants to be made sweet.

the clove comes, not obviously male or female. it is gender-less. i care not for the tools. i want to please and be pleased.

waves of cool ripple across my skin leaving behind it’s own slick desire. my mouth waters in preparation.

i still my insides, eager.
in the immersion of the all consuming ambrosia, wrapped in intentional courage that would need no drink. my body is pulsing, has become one pounding heartbeat.

each step a soft purr layered underneath the bass bouncing off the walls. they are aware they are being watched. they swallow gazes. with intent for only me.

i lick my drying lips. power is approaching with a plan. that power feeding off the pity in the room. that power that throws those gazes underneath those deliberate steps. that power that slides next to me at the end of the bar.

that power, that spice, dressed in all black. she releases feminine energy with ease.

she takes the rocks glass with a daring smile in her eyes. she gulps. she leaves a little more than a swallow in the glass.

“one after my heart. bourbon.” she says. a drop of sweetness hangs from her lips. she licks the liquor from her lips. i want to be that drop of sweetness being licked then swallowed .  “i could wait until you’re finished with that or i could take you home with me and give you more than that.”

“can you?” i tease.

“i could. i have a feeling, i’m not the only one. unless, you have other plans?”

“no. i’m going home with you.”

“come.”

*photo jlindhardt. flickr.com*

 

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