It was an evening like no other. A buzz was rimming through the crowd like a hive. They were hot and bothered in the summer eve, ready for the main act to take to their instruments and rev it up.
As the applause amped to a crescendo, the spotlights flash on the band. The lead singer took to the mic and introduced her voice into the evening air, as the crowd went wild:
"We're the French Ticklers," she smiled above the roar of the audience. "We're so glad you came. This first song will really get into your pants."
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About Me
- Ali
- Fascinated by the movement of desire through Myth, literature, lyrics, religions, history, and shared experience -- and loving any good love story that arrests the heart and warrants a good sized cry towel -- I am a hopeless romantic at heart. But also a heady academic with a penchant for the feminine divine, who is rooted in a darling body wrought with emotions and feelings and perceptions of the vast and interpersonal relationships of the world, and effervescently intrigued by the dissolution of the fuzzy boundaries of self and other. More about me here: www.auspiciousprojects.com and twitterpated here: @manifestcookies
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