Taken With the Wind

His strut screamed cockiness
His smug look yearned for attention
His green elevator eyes
Grazed over me
Like I was a cherished pistol
In his arsenol.
He was cheeky
Domineering
"What can I do ya for,
Johnny Boy?"
His eyes locked on me
While mine locked on his
Riptide biceps
Triceps
Full
Lush
Lips
Cheek bones
Carved from angels
The corners of his
Kisser
holding a cigarette
Puffing out perfect light circles
Before speaking again
His voice sensual
Demanding
Pretentious
Rough.
"Well then?"