An uncanny girl sat down next to me on the bus today. I didn't notice her entrance initially; rather she announced her presence with a wayward coiffure that gave off a distinct scent of cigarettes, coffee and tanning oil. While none of these things in their own right were uniquely rousing, their marriage was altogether arresting. Something told me that if the aroma of her hair were capable of keeping a secret, it would be that her pussy tastes like a glazed doughnut. Did I mention that I'm thirty-seven and I've never been with a woman? Also, I flunked out of pastry school.
This is a submission for, http://sixsentences.blogspot.com/, an online journal.
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