Love sat, cross legged on a thick rug in front of the blazing fireplace of my mind. There she sat, bare toes wriggling in the plush strands as she eyed Lust uncertainly. Ah yes, Lust. There she lounged, sprawled across turbulent sheets, eyes inviting and finger beckoning.
Love shifted on her rug. until now she had been so comfortable. So easy and restful, and now Lust had arrived, and every time she got involved Love got confused. The rug was so soft, and yet-
Lust beckoned again, rolling lazily onto her front and lifting a leg behind her to wave back and forth behind her head. Love couldn’t help but feel a little spiteful. After all, She had thought she was the only one involved. Lust raised a perfectly formed eyebrow, as if to say me too, honey.
The real problem, Love mused, was that Lust ALWAYS showed up. Sure, Love snuck into some of Lust’s parties, but Lust ALWAYS seemed to gatecrash just when Love was getting comfortable. Love sighed. Almost invariably, Lust just got drunk and broke things…