She sat behind plated glass….phone in hand….making promises and forecasts…..

A sexual vagabond…always looking for a home….a safe bet….something to keep me warm….

Her voice….that Southern drawled Bourbon voice was the seducer…
Wasn’t the loose caboose….the carved-out bosom….the waxed Brazilian job…

It was that scratchy Bourbon voice….gluing me…..placing dollar after dollar after dollar into a slot….her slot….all was for the taking…

And next month….we’ll meet again…guarenteed….