I never like the taste of liquor

Unless it was on you

Watching how carefully you pour the amber liquid

In a chilled glass entices thoughts

It is not the liquid in its spender sitting

In wait, for your mouth

It is after when it invades and corrupts

Twisting its area to meld into something more

You drink and swallow.

Moving closer, so I may have a turn

One deep kiss and I am intoxicated

(You should be bottled)

This is the second excerpt on the Soft Erotic Series on Starsrite.com