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Seize Her

I came, I saw she was a bad one - but we tapped her whiskey jar. White lightning, moonshine, lily petals. Hard. Creamy. Day broke, face in the carpet; I'd thrown my keys and wallet at her feet. A regal haze in her eyes and hair in curls like leaves, lusty sweat and barbaric laughter, the sheet wrapped round her. Out I stumbled, empty pockets. No car. But on the gravel driveway, balanced on a stone, my phone. And scrawled across the screen in lipstick: "Need a ride sweti?" Below, a number. Conquered.

Story by:

Steven R Wolfe

Soporifics@gmail.com

submitted at 4:43pm

2 October 2011

Steven R Wolfe's web:

Stevenrwolfe.net