Her mother never believed in petticoats but she was after a lot of them. She set out early with just the right amount of give a little and take a lot, and a real slick touch at how she came across, making it easy for her to have her way.
She was willing to perk up her ears or put her tail between her legs in order to fit in to his dream.
It didn’t take too long.
She’d sit on the hardwood floor under the baby grand and roll his cigarettes, making sure to line them up perfectly on the little marble table by the wall.They’d be waiting for him when he reached for one and another and another...silence and service...hmm petticoats.
Bartok's 2nd was giving him trouble so she slipped a little present between cigs tonight. She knew he came to it by the little smirk on his mouth. He bent down low under the piano, his dark long curls hanging over his pretty face. She caught the blink of a green glistening eye. He let out a little peep of a low laugh. She was in. Mmm, petticoats. - from this book I'm workin' on