short stories based off ldr songs

music to watch boys to

It didn't really matter what I had. I'd purchased bubblegum pink flamingo figurines, and I guess they kept me occupied for a while. They stood by my window sill and, over time, blistered into a nasty crimson under the Mykonos sun when they lost my interest, like every other material item inevitably did. It was my games that held my attention like nothing else. I used to put on my records and gaze over the beaches. Young, hot, tan, but ultimately, dull boys. I'd stare and stare until I'd found my target. I'd put on my tiniest bathing suit, a bit of mascara, rouge, maybe some golden Tiffany bracekets and to the boardwalk I'd go. It's a fairly simple game of cat and mouse. Or better, like catching a fish. You move slowly, appear fragile and helpless, glance around like you don't know where to go. You then catch his eye and give a shy little smile, then continue down to where the water meets the sand. Make yourself home at at the edge and look back periodically. Giggle and bite your lip, you're a pretty, young girl having a day at the beach. What teenage boy would resist? Eventually, he'll wander over and you'll begin to have a conversation about God knows what, that doesn't matter. Remember to work the classics: soft, girlish voice, bat your lashes, play with your hair. You are the bait convincing the fish to bite, after all. It may seem like alot, but I've been perfecting this technique for years. My family has. My great grandmother, her daughter, my mother. We've learned to make the best our immortality, trying every day to break the curse for the daughters to come after us. When the conversation ends, he'll walk back to his chair and it's time for your big break. He'll be watching as you step into the cerulean expanse, play with the water awhile, get caught in a riptide, begin to flail your arms, and let out high pitched 'damsel-in-distress' shrieks of artificial fear. The hopefully athletic boy will want to become your knight in shining armor and dash across the hot sand to save your life. You now must go limp, let him carry your out of the cold water and save the day. At that point, nothing else you do matters; he's fallen into the trap, the mouse in the mousetrap, the fish and the bait, and there's no escale. It's something about making a man feel like a man, feel big and strong and protective, that gets them hooked. Maybe something primal, something that sparks an addiction to you. He'll fall in love, he'll chase that feeling, he'll do anything you ask, do your bidding.