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Friday, September 21, 2007

Of love and lust.


He first laid his eyes on her the last fortnight. Amidst all the discordant and noisy convival and seemingly festive backdrop, he all but noticed that she was a figure of fleeting confidence, with the aura of unmistakable intrigue.

She sings a strange yet familiar song, which in a way never comprehensible, causing those surrounding her to break into a dance, as if in trance. Her tanned skin glistening under the glare of the sun.

How he desires to run his fingers around her swelte contours. Her body lustful and wanting. He would whisper words of love into her ears and kissing her lips and she would speak tenderly to him, her voice as raspy and balmy as the soothing winds of the alps.

His passion for her is burning his heart, and his desire is consuming his soul. He waits. Knowing that all he could afford now is to steal glances at the images of her alluring figure.

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posted by The Reluctant Chauvinist at 7:06 AM