Every man has that one unforgettable woman that will haunt him until his final day; the girl that got away. Allie detested television, vanilla ice cream, and missionary. She explored the depths of her sexuality; while I discovered the heights of my pain. My muse had a nickname. I called her Devil Girl. I write these words to ease my sorrows. My name is Andrew.

This is our story.

Standing outside the food court

My wobbly knees barely supporting me

Two construction workers approached her

what kind of foolish game was this?

As one reached for her hand

I stormed out of the mall

burning cheeks scorching everything around me

I refuse to share my girl

I refused to play this game

We didn’t speak for days

Ignored her texts, calls, and messages

then I accidentally heard one voicemail

she wept like a baby

I called her, promising to visit her the next day

Allie opened the door and rushed me

Her red eyes full of moist regret

her nakedness embellished the hallway

“I will not share what is mine”

She smiled at my naive words

She replied, “loving is sharing”

from the bedroom came a gorgeous brunette

wearing heels, a smile, and a wicked scent

she impressed me with her outfit

before I could ask, Allie smiled “This is Pandora.

if you love me, let me watch you do her”

what the hell, we are supposed to be arguing

She whispered, “Do you love me Andrew?”

struggling with the stirring in my jeans

I shut my eyes and sighed

Yes I love you Devil Girl

More next Saturday