Her voice was ghostlike, the words all soft and flowy, and the mouth that issued them was islanded by lips that said welcome in the manner that only a long-standing wife should say it. Her smile supported flushed dimples that were crested by fern-green eyes that read my heart.
Breasts moved beneath her designer sweater like unopened sachets of milk and her thighs danced generously – or maybe “danced” is an understatement. It’s more like they writhed with invitation.
“Yes,” i replied with suppressed eagerness when she asked me to dinner.
Dinner was excellent.
When i rose from her waterbed, i crossed to the chair in front of the oak dressing table. My jacket was draped there. I thrust my hand into a pocket that produced two items. The first was a packet of fireballs. I popped one into my mouth and sucked hard whilst i admired the second object, my Colt AMT. Minutes before i had been licking her throat. I shot her there.
I left assured that love is only love but money can sure buy a lot more of it.