She's "that girl." You know the
one...
You never really went steady, but you'd run into her from time to
time while knocking around in disreputable joints, usually late at
night. She looked so
hot, so sleek, so
sexy, so expressive, so exotic. You'd end up back at her place &
the night would just.. take off. A complete blur of
hot, sweaty,
feverish, delirious, fumbling passion. You'd do things to each
other.. you'd do things to her, she'd do things to you.. things
that you're not even sure have names, that you're pretty sure are
illegal almost anywhere. Even her kinks have kinks & after
oneof these nights, you'd realize that you yourself had a lot more kinks. And it wasn't just physical, it was cerebral.
Ethereal. Transcendent. But it would all whiz by in a blur, and by
morning you'd find yourself lightheaded, a
bit confused, &
stumbling homeward to your regular gal.
Finch is just too much for any
one man, probably. She leaves a trail of
broken, brainy, embittered engineers and washed up politicians behind her.
She ruins you for the RealWorld. You can ride a while, but you
probably can't go the distance with her. Go back to your regular gal
and try not to think too much about what you've seen. Done. Felt.
Thought.
Maybe you can salvage a little
happiness; but it'll be
hard. After
all.. you've tasted.. her.
She's not like anything else.