Each day does know to bring its own sort of magic. It is found in the person stepping over the threshold and walking through my door.

...and thus.

He told her he loved books.
Words.
Women writers and their use of adjectives, helping him paint his canvas with every word they wrote.
His canvas would come to life and he would get lost in what his minds eye envisioned.

She sat between his spread legs, both of them naked and comfortable and she listened hungrily to his words.

The initial intent was supposed to be an unhurried gentle lowering of her frame on his very manly and portly form... steadying herself with hands on either side of his head on the sofa's arm rest, leaning on her knees dangerously close to his tight scrotum

...and then he said

"...u are resplendent..."

And that was it.

She was was struck at the beauty of the word and stopped in mid action to look directly into his eyes.

He knew he had her attention.

"...my Empress...", he said.

"...my Advocate...", she responded.

How words know to stoke those burning embers of deep lust and erotica.

RB.