Enticement. Temptation. Possession. Deception. Betrayal. Each, a powerful force when wielded by someone knowledgeable in the art. The thrill of the hunt, too alluring to ignore. The pain of remorse and treachery too severe. I have known each of these in my life. Spent years trying to perfect some, while fleeing from others and their destructive path. These thoughts are what consume me each night as I dip my head in greeting to Calvin, the doorman of my high-rise building. Like ghosts that haunt my steps, the memories are ever with me. Longings and regrets. Desires paired with a damning Judas kiss. A need to forget and embrace what could be, yet held back by the fear of letting the pain of past mistakes snare me a second time. Entering the foyer, a draft of cold slips beneath my over-the-knee skirt. I veer toward the elevators, and a heightened sense of excitement deepens my flush. I unbutton the top three buttons of my winter coat with the pretense of being too warm and check to make sure the cut of my shirt is low enough in the polished doors before me.
