Oh, my bald-headed Lothario, how I yearn for you! You have only to brush my arm with your hand and I become both excited and enthralled, a captive audience of one. In the quiet moments I think of you, and I am utterly filled with passion and desire for you. My heart pumps faster as soon as I catch sight of you. Blood courses through me, and an unsatisfied craving intensifies within.

You are a ruthless tease, taunting me with that mischievous smile. Though I work in a "fish bowl," you know I am powerless to resist you. Your cold hand finds the warm skin just under my blouse. Suddenly your lips are on me, and I struggle to catch my breath.

Then, just as suddenly, the moment is over. You step back, allowing me to recover. I can see that you are as excited and overcome with desire as I am. You step toward me again, hesitate, then pull back.

With a sly smile on your lips and a wink of your eye, you utter a quiet goodbye and then you are gone, leaving me wanting more. Tomorrow you will be moving away, leaving me in my desperation. The thought of you shall haunt my days and fill my nights with dreams of passion. Goodbye, my Lothario, goodbye.

Lo*tha"ri*o (?), n. [Name of a character in Rowe's drama, "The Fair Penitent."]

A gay seducer of women; a libertine.

 

© Webster 1913.

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