“I want to rip off your logic and make passionate sense to you” she whispered, pausing shortly so I could feel her breath on my ear. She moved back to look into my eyes with her left hand still on my shoulder.
“I’m sorry”, I said sheepishly, looking down to avoid eye contact. “My religion forbids that sort of thing”.
But she already knew I was going to say that, and was ready for it. Slowly placing her remaining hand on my other shoulder while leaning in, then letting her cheek brush softly against mine while she moved her mouth to my ear and whispered:
“You have no idea the fallacies we could pick apart.. one after another…. ”
She moved to my other ear, rubbing her cheek against mine, noses touching as they passed.
Her head dropped a little, leaning into mine so I could smell her hair, and came back up toward my ear and quietly uttered,
“The false analogies… and a sample size…”
She slowly breathed in and out, then gasped:
I couldn’t help myself. I was hers, and it was wonderful.
I never heard from my religion again.
Logic was more elegant, with clean, smooth lines. She seduced me, pure and simple, and I’ve never looked back.