The Sensuality of a Woman

She slinked toward him like a cat stalking its prey. He was instantly in love.
Her movements were fluid and she seemed to beckon to him to wreck the ship that was his heart on her island. Her hands floated around her whole body, like a planet orbiting the sun. They had long and slender fingers that begged to be held. He wanted her arms to encircle him, no matter if she dragged him under.
He wanted to be close to that smooth as silk skin. He wanted to feel it on his face, a soothing balm for his soul. He imagined it smelled of coconut and sea air.
Her hair framed her face, thick as rope, but burnt. He hoped it soft as down. The orbs that peered out from under the veil of hair were hued as if painted by a delicate hand; mulit-colored. They pierced his heart and tore it out for her to feast on. He imagined that’s what Cleopatra’s eyes must have felt like to her many worshippers.
The music ended and she withdrew from him in a flash. He finished his drink and left the strip club, floating on her memory.

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