Up in the foothills, deep in the Ozarks, I found a crumpled cabin. A pumpkin was aglow as I approached a large oak door. I knocked and shuddered at the gloom, for the clouds had shrouded the moon, and an eerie wind did howl.
It opened with a moan. I gazed upon a beautiful nude woman with hair-like blackened fringe and shimmering ebony eyes. I tried to speak; she put a finger to my lips.
“Shush, Marisa.”
She led me by the fire. I slipped off my dress, my body flushed with arousal. Our lips met as we embraced.
