sexy creative- inspired by Leonard Cohen and Kings of Leon
the room is vast, with lots of floors and lots of clothes. there is a tiny bed, in the corner, and many books to the right. when she comes over, she makes this all work to her advantage. he forgets how it was that he managed to sit still when she was in the room. right now, he was lying on his back, watching her. she was slow, careful and intentional in her moves. Her clothes were lying among the many clothes at the end of the room, everything but her lace gray-colored underpants. she bent over at the edge of the bed, legs straight, to reach for the cigarettes in her bag. She unbends, slowly, legs still straight, she knows she's being watched. She lights the cigarette, walks slowly to the door. her hair giggles on her back, in on her every move. she closes the door, keeps her hand on it, inhales long and hard. lights don't hurt much. plus she needed the time, to make sure he was watching her. he was. she walked over to the tiny bed, starts crawling to him. making her hair dance to the music that she put on. she blows smoke onto his bare chest. he pulls her rope of hair towards him, she doesn't hesitate a single bit. smirks, even. like she had written the script. next line: he knows better than to hang on to the rope, so he lets go. this activity causes her hair tie to ride up her wrist, where it rests comfortably in the divide between her arms. she gets up to open the window. 'to move the mirror, or not?' she asks herself out loud. she decides not to, and starts dancing with it instead. the window is now open, the late evening monsoon wind makes her fly. in this room with many floors and clothes. 'the smoke matches her underwear' he thinks. she dances too close to the window sill, as if she wants to be seen, as if she isn't being seen right now. this causes her hair to knock over the fragile ashtray.
she looks up with her large eyes.
he forgives her, like he has forgiven other women, countless times.