Take Me Through the Looking Glass

I met a lady once, visiting a voyeur show. She yearned for visions without intimacy, craved desires without that physical connection. An unseen intensity pulled her in. There he was, on the alternate side of the mirror: a desired MAN. The sight of his flesh enchanted her senses; luring her to inhale its scent. Delving deeper, she laid eyes on his sinewy muscles, compelling her to sink her teeth into them. Witnessing his moist armpits aroused an unstoppable urge to taste them, to savour his essence. The ache for this man grew so fervently that shattering the glass between them seemed the only way to draw a tad nearer to him.