He was sitting alone in his bedroom, shirtless, in dark tight jeans, smoking, staring at nothing in an absent and far-off gaze. He was listening to a ...ecord he had borrowed from the Professor. It was an opera album and Lexa recognized the music. It was Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, a role her mother had sang in her own career as a soprano. It was beautiful, sad, divine, a song so full of special emotion that it brought her back to the past when she had been a little girl and she remembered her. She had a ripped up tank top falling half off her shoulders with our bands logo emblazons across the front, torn just below our emblem to reveal the tightest waist I've ever had the pleasure to lay eyes on and a low slung hip hugging black leather mini skirt. Slightly south the black tops of her seamed fishnet stockings were visible clinging to her long shapely stems as she swayed to the beat gracefully on heels that seemed impossibly long given her tantalizingly sexy gyrations. My eyes locked. More

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