Two of my girlfriends and I were sitting around one afternoon talking about a female enigma we knew. She was kind of cute, but didn’t have a very pretty face. She did have a hot body, but she had an awful personality. She wasn’t very nice to people.
But the men! It seemed that every man that dated her became obsessed. They couldn’t live without her. They didn’t want to let her go. She bewitched them!
Her past lovers, which were numerous, would all stand around on the deck at our favorite bar and when her name would come up you could see them physically change. Their shoulders would droop a little, their eyes would glaze over, and in quiet voices usually reserved for church, they would sing her praises. “That was the best sex I ever had in my life.” “I ain’t never!” “Good gawd that woman turned me inside out.” “I love my girlfriend, but if that woman would just give me another chance…” Shaking their heads, wanting to cry into their warmed cans of PBR, remembering a night of wanton sex and animal lust. Then they would stand in a moment of silence as her spirit passed through each of them.
It was pathetic.
We didn’t get it.
“What in the world does she do to them?! She must have some serious juju going on down there in her *restricted square!” We all giggled. “I wonder what it’s made of!” my girlfriend blustered. “Well” I said, wanting to make sure I picked the most precious of all things, “Mine is made of platinum! What’s yours made of?” My other girlfriend piped up quickly wanting to win the game, “Mine is made of gold! And once a month it has a dusting of rubies!” “Yes!” I yelled and we both laughed loudly!
We noticed that our other comrade in arms was strangely quiet on the other side of the table. We both looked at her. She had her head bowed, her eyelids were halfway closed and there was a sultry smile on her face. “So?” we both asked her “What’s yours made of?” She tilted her head up slightly, grinned and said “Mine?” she purred, “Mine is made of melted butter.” And she gave a throaty chuckle.
My other girlfriend and I stared at her with wide eyes. We didn’t laugh. We were processing what she said. Imagining it. Then the two of us were nodding our heads beginning to understand. We let loose the most reverent of all sounds a girl can make when she’s talking to a woman. It was low and awestruck and musical. It was;
*borrowed phrase from a friend 🙂 you know who you are!!
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