I melt when he leads me confidently in dancehand firm on my lower backeyes locked; whispers low commands in my earmixes strength with tenderness; notices tiny things — a strand of hairmy fingers on the flute
Turns Off
crude pushy grabscheap dirty talk about my bodyignoring my feelings or storiesweak hesitant leading in dancesmell of sweat or alcoholloud jealousycontrolling instead of protectingtrying to “score”
