Dos Equis

There was a madness to his eyes. Like a demon waiting to be freed inside him. He held his head like the third monkey on the bridge to Noah's ark as it was starting to rain. He smiled like a villain the moment before his plan was complete. He spoke calmly, as if knowing the answer before having asked the question. And he never shouted. Only whispered. As if his gaze allowed him complete dominance over the other. And it did. His face gave the impression he knew your deepest desires and how to achieve them. When you look at him, you can't help but feel slightly shorter. And a thousand times safer. His hands were like wrecking balls with the softest touch breaking down walls and stimulating skin. His kiss was addictive and seductive. As if going was the new drug and you were both gone. He walked with a conquering footstep, forcing submission into the ground before him. When he held you, your body couldn't help but beg. Your stomach grew fragile and your heartbeat raced. Or stopped. You could never really tell which. He picked you up like he just won the human race and you were his trophy. He is the most interesting man in the world. He doesn't always drink beer, but when he does, he prefers dos equis. Stay thirsty, my friends.