There are seven reasons I want her.  

One: She writes without any pause or concern.  She’s totally honest, incredibly insightful, and she makes me laugh out loud.  I want her because of her words.

Two: Her ass is like an onion.  It makes me cry. 

Three:  She wears perfect socks.  They come up to her knee or just below and they crunch up just the right way.  They hint at schoolgirl without fetish, and they draw my eyes to her legs and make me wonder.

Four:  She can sing like she’s waking up the world.  Heads turn, mouths open, and people fall in love.  She receives marriage proposals at the karaoke bar and she makes old men cry.  I want her because of her voice.

Five: She smells like…

Six:  She flirts with me.  I know for a fact it will never happen.  She won’t follow through and she won’t act on it.  But she smiles and laughs and touches my arm and sometimes I think maybe.  Maybe it will. I want her because she flirts with me.

Seven: She has a neck that makes me want to come. I want to come on her and in her, and there’s a small part of me that feels guilty while the rest of me is so turned on I don’t know what to do with myself.  Her neck should be illegal.