They say that once upon a time, the Sirens sat upon their rocky perches
and lured sailors to their deaths, dashing them upon the rocks as they sought
the ones who cast such delightful songs upon the waves.
Mine sat on the couch.
She smiled.
What is she up to?
She beckoned.
A curled finger has no business being that sexy.
She patted her lap.
Resist.
My feet move.
No damn you! Stop!
“We don’t need those.”
Well okay!
“Bend over my knee.”
Some dignity, please! You just threw yourself down there!
“My good girl.”
Dashed to exquisite pieces again.
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