Maybe Scotty The Potty Turned Into Scotty

Reading A Good Book In Silence Is Like Eating Chocolate For The Rest Of Your Life And Never Getting Fat.

Deep, Dark Unearthly Black. I Hadn't Told Anyone Yet, But The Color Kept Streaking Across My Mind At The Oddest Moments. When It Did, My Skin Shivered Pleasantly, And It Was As If I Could Feel The Color Tracing A Finger Tenderly Along My Jaw, Tipping My Chin Up To Face It Directly. I Knew It Was Absurd To Think A Color Would Come To Life, But Once Or Twice, I Was Sure I'd Caught A Flash Of Something More Substantial Behind The Color. A Pair Of Eyes. The Way They Studied Me Cut To The Heart.

Maybe Scotty The Potty Turned Into Scotty The Hottie. Have You Thought About That?

First,” He Said, Coming Behind Me And Placing His Hands On The Counter, Just Outside Of Mine, “choose Your Tomato.” He Dipped His Head So His Mouth Was At My Ear. His Breath Was Warm, Tickling My Skin. “good. Now Pick Up The Knife.” “does The Chef Always Stand This Close?” I Asked, Not Sure If I Liked Or Feared The Flutter His Closeness Caused Inside Me. “when He’s Revealing Culinary Secrets, Yes.

The More Time I Spent With Him, The More I Knew The Feelings Weren't Going Away.