You met her that year at DragonCon. After the second round of Settlers of Catan with the novelty giant gamepieces, she caught your eye and whispered her room number.
An alluring and mysterious plastic sack of toy surprises just behind her heaving, Halloween-stockinged calves. Two fists raised in ready one-two lovetaps. The gentle undulation of rolls embraced snugly beneath geriatric support undergarments. Black pencil skirt by Targét. The beckoning black screen of a laptop stuffed with “erotic art” of “real womyn”.
And for mopping up: her polyamorous husband’s still-warm jorts, standing faithfully at the ready to catch milady’s essences, and yours.
As is he.