Every man has that one unforgettable woman that will haunt him until his final day; the girl that got away. Allie detested television, vanilla ice cream, and missionary. She explored the depths of her sexuality; while I discovered the heights of my pain. My muse had a nickname. I called her Devil Girl. I write these words to ease my sorrows. My name is Andrew.
This is our story.
Standing outside the food court
My wobbly knees barely supporting me
Two construction workers approached her
what kind of foolish game was this?
As one reached for her hand
I stormed out of the mall
burning cheeks scorching everything around me
I refuse to share my girl
I refused to play this game
We didn’t speak for days
Ignored her texts, calls, and messages
then I accidentally heard one voicemail
she wept like a baby
I called her, promising to visit her the next day
Allie opened the door and rushed me
Her red eyes full of moist regret
her nakedness embellished the hallway
“I will not share what is mine”
She smiled at my naive words
She replied, “loving is sharing”
from the bedroom came a gorgeous brunette
wearing heels, a smile, and a wicked scent
she impressed me with her outfit
before I could ask, Allie smiled “This is Pandora.
if you love me, let me watch you do her”
what the hell, we are supposed to be arguing
She whispered, “Do you love me Andrew?”
struggling with the stirring in my jeans
I shut my eyes and sighed
Yes I love you Devil Girl
More next Saturday
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