Sexy.
                       Sexy is like a freshly honed blade reflecting lamplight.
                            Sexy is like a leather-bound collector's edition of 
                   "The Lord of the Rings" or a 200-year-old copy of Milton's 
                   "Paradise Lost" with 

                                      engraved 

                                                   panels.  Sexy is like a blood-red  
                       Katana 
                   and a midnight-black Ninja racing down the street,

                                          hugged between thighs clad in worn leather. 

                                  Sexy is like grapes, like strawberries, like a 
                   cherry popsicle on a hot day. 

                                                 Hot.

                                  Hot day.

                     Sexy is like  a perfect dead-on shot between 
                   the eyes, executed while dropping upside-down from the rafters of 
                   a high building with nothing but 

                                 luck 
                                                to catch the fall. 

                   Sexy is like chocolate. 

                                Sexy is like the near-silent snick

                                              snick         snick         snick          snick

                        of a well used blade flipping open. 

                            Sexy is like a tailored black suit and a loosened tie. 

                          Sexy is like the clean lines of a perfectly oiled 
                   Beretta M92 semiauto. Sexy is like a formal red shirt half 
                   unbuttoned, like the quiet clink of chains 
                                                      shifting in the dark. 

                   Sexy is like a flawless

                                                                     flawless

                                                         spinning jump kick, like flipping up 
                       into a standing position without using any hands, like a gothic 
                   cathedral viewed by the light of the moon and stars.  
                              Sexy is like boots, big black leather boots with 
                   strong soles and steel toes and buckled straps                                                          
                  crisscrossing, crisscrossing. 

                           Crisscrossing,            crisscrossing.

                           Sexy is like a dark velvet rose with water-bead-diamonds
                    shining on its petals and blood glistening on its thorns. Sexy is
                   like chopsticks and Chinese food, like a plate of good sushi. 

                   Sexy is like a narrow-eyed glare and a smile that isn't a smile, like 

                                                   bone-white 

                       teeth framed by picture-perfect lips. 

                   Sexy is like that guy in your class, the one who would be 
                   totally quiet 
                   if it weren't for the fact that the zippers and the straps and the 
                   buckles on his pants jingle every time he moves, 

                                                    the one who walks like he owns you, 

                              owns you

                   who stands with his hips cocked to one side and his shirt riding up 
                   just the tiniest bit over that flat stomach, who never says a thing 
                   but who knows all the answers. 

                                                         All the answers.

                   Sexy is like fire, like a flame, a candle, a liquid tongue 
                   of light chasing away the shadows 

                                                            only to cast more. 

                               Sexy is like jagged bangs, like tousled hair, like the 
                   wind whispering and playing through a gun-metal earring. 
                       Sexy is like being in the back of the line and being let in 
                   first anyway. Sexy is like a martini cradled on fingertips, like 
                   a shot of vodka tossed back hard. 

                                                     Harder than hard.

                                            Sexy is like a long smooth calf, like 
                   slender ankles wrapped in leather. Sexy is like dark sunglasses, and 
                   everything they do and 
                                                            do not hide. 
                               Sexy is like a trench coat swirling around a street 
                   corner, like a city in the rain, like fog creeping along the surface of a 
                   lake, across the ground, across a forest of skyscrapers. 

                            Sexy is like a new moon in winter, like a thunderstorm, like 
                   an earthquake, like a tornado that's found water to play with. 

                           And play with.

                   Sexy is  like finding the perfect words on a page buried at 
                   the back of a library and realizing that you already

                                       knew them,
                                                know them, 
                                                         will always know them. 

                               Sexy is like teeth on a collarbone, like lips on a 
                   shoulder, chest, palm, like a tongue sliding up the back of a 

                                     thigh. 

                         Sexy is like a scarf, like warming hands numbed by the cold, 
                   like flushed cheeks. Sexy is like the first hesitant brush of lips 
                   in the park, like a hand tangled in 

                    hair, 
                           gripping, 
                                      pulling back head, 
                                                         baring neck, 
                                                 tongue, 
                                        teeth, 
                             thrusting, 
                                             ravaging, 
                                                            taking hold and never letting go. 
                   
                                            Never                            Letting
                                               go.                                go.

                           Sexy is like an old, overstuffed, worn leather chair.

                     Sexy is like a hand on a hipbone, fingers in a back pocket, chest
                    pressed to shoulder blades. 
                                Sexy is like a polished mahogany desk, a full bookcase, 
                   a grand staircase. 

                   Sexy is like hands tangled in sheets, 

                          white knuckled, 

                                                                     gripping, 

                                             holding, 

                                                               desperate, 

                                 breaking, 

                                                            rushing, 

                                                 free. 

                                                                                Free.