They left the front door ajar. In the gap you can see one
red stiletto-heeled shoe sitting on its side.
Two stumbling steps inward and you'll see another red stiletto-heeled shoe. There's also a press-on fingernail, with red polish, on the
first stair. Looks like that came loose fumbling for the handrail.
Between the front door and the stairs: a slime trail.
Translucent, green, two feet wide. It stretches up for four steps, where an imitation fox coat
is strewn.
It's a tail of the trail. Three steps up, there's a pocket book.
Then an exoskeleton scalp-plate.
A pair of torn fishnet stockings.
A chrome breathing apparatus oxidizing in our atmosphere.
The crown jewel, on the very last step: the torn wrapper
from an "ultra-thin" condom. The slime trail grows thickest there,
leading away and consuming two halves of a discarded bra, several superfluous
dermal spines, and a lipstick stain. The trail ends at the bedroom door.
You don't want to see what they left in there.
FemShep getting busy..
ReplyDeleteEwwwwwwww! Funny, but why did I read this BEFORE breakfast? :)
ReplyDeleteYUCK! LOL YUCK You *had* to leave that last part to my imagination, didn't you?
ReplyDeleteSee! You can write smut, too! ;)
ReplyDeleteehhh... I think I need a shower.
ReplyDeleteI was gonna say shower ... or at least, I hope 'whoever' showered afterwards. ;)
ReplyDeleteEeew is that what you call dirty sex?
ReplyDeleteEeeeuw from here too. There is just something about slime...
ReplyDelete