Her temperature cold, her resolve solid.
It takes time to find the wick and light the flame. It smoulders, it sizzles, it flickers.
A flicker becomes a flame and the temperature rises. The heat softens her resolve; she becomes malleable.
The flame becomes radiant, the wick drawing the heat inside, deep inside. She softens even more as the warmth spreads.
The wick burns bright.
She melts, ending in a warm, gooey mess. Her fragrance fills the air – a subtle, sensual, smouldering reminder of the heat.
You have to light the wick.
