You can't trust this woman, but you don't care. Stiletto limbs press like pins into soft perfect ass of baby fat. This sort of woman would make a man beg if he thought it would make a difference. Her sex appeal was so strong that the average penis length increased by a couple inches in any room she entered. Her amphetamine wink once aimed at a man would make him ache sleepless for weeks. Once she got into your head, once she got you playing a tortuous game of 'what if' you were lost, useless, ruined.
She never wanted me, but still I had something she wanted. Or thought she wanted. She taught me my own limits of deception. Once she got within arms reach, she rendered my poker face pointless. I understood that to court this pandora would require a evolutionary climb, and I discovered such a scientific feat could occasionally be made though sheer will. With my back turned toward her, I'm thankful for the encounter. Facing her though, I feel resentment. Her perfect neck can never be fully possessed by it's beholder. I want to consume that neck. I want to use my teeth, like I would with a perfect apple.