(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

In the flicker of an eye, she appears before him in the low-lit entrance, dressed in the deepest midnight black, as if conjured from the innermost recesses of his base imaginings. Guided by the seductively guttural moan of the jazz trumpet, she languidly slinks to the wall, pressing her petite frame into the stucco, her long fingers beginning the slow release, teasing open each clasp to reveal the satin, the lace and the firm, ready flesh to his transfixed gaze.

Moving toward her with an ease that betrays nothing of the urgency rising up inside him, he curls his hand around the growing swell straining the tailored suiting, relishing the fiery passion his intensely masculine arousal ignites, savouring his powerful hold over this rapacious woman.

Yet, as her look once again joins his, as the raspy breath escapes her glistening mouth, as she sensually strokes the swollen slickness down below, as she opens herself up for him, to him, his possession dissolves in an instant, her dangerous shadows unwittingly drawing him in, her unbound desire wordlessly calling him into her velvet web.

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

I shed the veil
Of the past, of the wounds, of the limits that once contained me

 I shed the veil
Through the word, through the deed, through the expression of my desire

I shed the veil
To embrace the mind and the body, to enfold the woman rising up inside me

I shed the veil
From this skin, from this flesh, for the man I crave to kiss and hold and taste

I shed the veil
Every moment, every day, every month of this past year

I shed the veil
For me, you, for us, my lone and collective witness

 I shed the veil
On the femme, on the vamp, on the minx, cheeky, dark and light

 I shed the veil
I shed my veil
And at long last
I am released, recovered, reborn

He tells me he likes pink.
He tells me he likes girlish.
He tells me he’d like to kiss me, taste me, make love to me
on a bed dressed in crisp, white cotton.

Who am I to argue with that?

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

The shadow, the light
Unify and divide
They spread me open
Stretch me wide
They call for your sliding, gliding
Electrifying touch
They long for the slow, teasing journey
Up the silken line
To the velvet
To the pulse
To the heat
Of my desire

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Take me to the place
Where the men are mad
And clad in well-cut cloth

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Traverse the land
Cross the sea
Come here
Lie close
Hide away with me

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

Before you
Before your body of perfection, your mind inspired
Before your gaze, your words, the warmth of your embrace
Your scent, your kiss, your sweet and heady essence
I am bare
I am open
I am the primal and the sensual
Passion, craving, want
I am light
I am flesh
I am woman
Reborn

(Remember to knock on Osbasso’s door to see this week’s gorgeous players…)

In gilded glow, in shadows deep
The yearning for your soft caress
Lingering kiss, possessing flesh
Smoulders, burns
Devastates me