Vignette
“Will it call me?” A bit of taco fell from the corner of J.Lo’s mouth as she stirred groggily on the four-poster bed. She looked up expectantly and the light filtering through the sheer curtains briefly illuminated her breasts before she slowly, regretfully, pulled the sheets up to cover herself.
“No,” rasped The Lerpa, “It won’t.”
Only the slight sounds of soft crying and the the rustle of fabric filled the room as The Lerpa pulled its crimson pantaloons from the drying rack near the fireplace. Last night’s thunderstorm had soaked them through, and the threadbare material now seemed a bit tighter around its distended belly. Leaving through the large front door, It lurched past the immaculately kept lawns and gatehouse into the cool April morning. The Lerpa reminded itself that It wanted more than just another broodmare. Her music was for shit, and Its ardor evaporated upon hearing that crap. Though the hours that had passed while their bodies entwined were diverting, they had no future in the empty, meaningless taking of pleasure.
It gurgled through a lipless mouth in the strengthening daylight. “Come away with me, in the night.” Now
that was music to get Its fuck on. Perhaps
she would be the one....¿.