Nine kinds of beautiful
She was nine kinds of beautiful and there were no two ways about it. She walked into my life like a breath of fresh air, a 5'8" leggy brunette with a gaze of steel and the grace of a swan, the body of a goddess, hair done up tight in a way that meant business but promised pleasure later. Classy broads like her didn’t walk into my life every day. Hell, I’da been lucky to see a dame this good twice, ever. And what’s more, t’day, she needed me. Nothing gets a hold of a man’s ego like being needed by a lady, and she had me twirled around her finger like spaghetti ‘round a fork. ...