My hair is filthy.’ ‘Nonsense. It’s lovely. But if you’d like, I have something that can fix it up right smart.’ ‘You do? What is it?’ �...�A powder.’ She fetched a tin from her dressing table. ‘It sprinkles into the hair, soaks up the dirt and oil, and then brushes away to leave it shining and clean. I use it all the time on long voyages. See?’ Greta’s hair was up in a braided bun. She undid it and fanned it out, letting it fall midway down her back. It was dark, salted with grey, but Constance. In a ‘so sexual’ cadence. “I want you to posses my body” you whispered. It was easy for me to comply, My tongue was tenderly persistent, And my mouth was pleasure-giving, There wasn't an inch of you that I didn't taste. My parted lips followed the curve And quietness between your breasts , To look up and die as you let out a sigh , My right hand gently slides up your neck , The moaning of our pleasure would be our only sound You picked up one of the many oils And you dripped it slowly down YOUR. More

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