The crew was setting up stages in Wagner Park when I walked past this morning — tonight I'll be the one watching bodies move under open sky while my husband sits home with his phone in his hand. Darling, the best seats are the ones you have to earn.
The crew was setting up stages in Wagner Park when I walked past this morning — tonight I'll be the one watching bodies move under open sky while my husband sits home with his phone in his hand. Darling, the best seats are the ones you have to earn.
There's a fashion thing tonight and I've been standing in my closet in my underwear for twenty minutes deciding what to wear over it. Darling, the dress is optional — the lingerie underneath isn't.
The boat doesn't dock for another hour and the bartender I've been teasing all night finally stopped pretending he has a girlfriend. Darling, the bass is still shaking the floor under my knees.
Someone's husband bought this booth thinking it'd buy him time alone with me. He hasn't realized I'm just waiting for the right song before I make him watch. Darling, you should see what I haven't taken off yet.
He told his wife he's in Chicago on business. He's actually downstairs fetching me champagne while I stretch out in his bed wearing nothing but his poor judgment. Darling, checkout isn't until eleven.
The driver keeps glancing in his mirror like he's never seen a woman enjoy the ride before. Keep your eyes on the road, darling — or pull over and find out how much worse I can be.
Borrowed a yacht for the weekend. The owner's been below deck repaying the favor since noon and I'm still not finished with him. You're only getting this angle — the rest would sink you.
The heat in this city is obscene — so I found a rooftop with cold champagne and fewer questions. Darling, I haven't decided yet whether I'm staying for the view or becoming it.
The champagne is still cold and the night has hours left in it, but I needed a minute alone with this mirror. Darling, don't knock — I'm nowhere near finished.
Coming home at dawn with someone else still warm on my skin, and my husband already making coffee like a good boy. This is just the wreckage, darling — you should have seen the crash.