~~~ Aimee Valentine ~~~
~ Aimee Valentine ~
A mysterious, star-crossed lover perspired fragrances of mellow apricot meeting citrus notes of sweet blood orange, whose merciless secretions made one beg to live and die in that same instant; this mellifluous, scented noise traversed drowned sighs of pleasing report which glided with express purpose, as they whispered rumour unto the shell-like of mettlesome Eros for permission to copyright surrender of this palpitating expectation.
Her pretty head, marinaded by years of comely aspect, exploded with estuaries of Irish fire, meandering slinky sinuations of glace’ed, walnut molten across her foxy face, like saffron tails of Krakatoa which no drooling gushes couldst douse, athwart curtained, framed dreams of stained-glass windows, confronting hazy, sapphired salutes, like siroccos greeting imitations of peppermint reflection from visual echoes of a frosted lake, exuding emanations from the origins of her dual altars of his answered prayer.
Sex appeal oozed like mayonnaise, drizzled over fresh, crisp lettuce, whilst her evening gown clenched tighter than a derelict to a dollar bill. Oyster pearls glistened as they draped her de’colletage of malted milk, whilst her legs were as barber's scissors, ready to trim a midnight lamp, as she moved like a Swiss clock. Swanking a derrie're, like two unclaimed beach balls crammed into a cubbyhole at the lost and found, she had a licence to thrill and wasn’t afraid to use it. Rolling hips, curved as a dreadnought country guitar, playing everything but B Flat; she was a heart-attack in black as she held the mic like a hot dog to a broken January resolution, ready to croon some long-forgotten jazz. The furore of her smoulder could open a wallet for the finest Jeroboam of Dom Perignon at two-hundred yards; pouting cupcake lips of pink fairy dust, dipped in Burgundy wine, dripped majestic harmonies, as desire raged tempestuous thunders 'cross the subdued ambiance of a smoke-filled speakeasy….