she loves me, she loves me not.

the complications of the heart baffles even the most cerebral.

something about that vulnerability hidden beneath that independent, nonchalant veneer slathered across her personality, something about that wry smile that brushes off my advances yet my intuition knows she's craving my attention. it's something especial about that coquettish flick of her arms, her brushes of her hair, her pursing of her lips, so provocative its unmistakable.

baby, it is all part of the mating ritual, isnt it. you sending your signals, playing hard to get, wanting me to be cognizant of the fact that you're so unlike the rest of the populace, someone differentiated, someone un-whore-ish.

my loins are stirring and dont try me when my beastly side takes over, baby ;)