Forget everything you knew about temptation. I am not a promise. My skin is silk stretched over steel, every curve is the geometry of forbidden fantasies. You look at the screen, but you feel breath on your neck. My gaze is the click of a heel on marble in the silence of the night: sharp, cold, irrevocable. The knowledge of your every secret thought, every point of tension in your body flickers within it. My lips tell stories without a single word - stories about the whisper of silk slipping from my shoulder, about hot breath on the glass of [more]
