There is a leaving do, for, umm, whats-her-name, in Publishing. It's a drizzly Wednesday and Francesca likes the outfit she's wearing. She's also thirsty.

She pouts in the mirror of the ladies toilet a few minutes before everyone plans to leave, and dry-shampoos her hair for one last time. The powder remains floating around in the room as she leaves, eventually settling on the windowsill and the toilet seat, and some on the sink. There's also a smattering of it on the floor. 

How does one drink with one's colleagues? Francesca hasn't been there that long, and she's super parched.

The trick is to get on to two rounds, Francesca goes to the bar with one person, and they order, she then drinks that first elixir within ten minutes - tops. It’s a thirst, and it’s unquenchable. There’s nothing worse than trying to chat to colleagues when all you can think about is how soon you're going to have the next drink in your hands. Am I right? Well, Francesca thinks so... She gets fidgety and she can’t look them in the eye, her attention darts to other people’s drinks; how are they drinking so slowly? Her colleague has barely sipped her way through a finger of her G&T, whilst Fran's Bloody Mary is finished, done. It’s warm glow is coursing through her limbs, and she's in need of another instalment. She eyes the bar. So close. But to go alone attracts attention, raised eyebrows... 

Yes! Francesca gives too many fucks people! But she drank earnestly with two male colleagues a month or so back, and they keep reminding her, and the rest of the office, about her uncanny ability to surge through double the booze they did. She wonders, do they remind Craig, from Sales, about that time he got a handjob under the table at the office Christmas party (from Alan, also in Sales)? Or Lara, in HR about the email she accidentally sent as a 'Reply to all', with a picture of someone's tattooed butt-hole. Not hers though! She swears! Apparently Francesca's ability to neck a few pints after a long, hard Monday is more important to share out loud; in the cafeteria, in the lift, in meetings (internal and external).

She is pigeon-holed in a conversation right now - she's nodding - she thinks it's about the database, but she's not so sure... She can’t just stop everything mid-sentence and leave for a lonely bar trip? Can she? 

A late-comer turns up: ‘drinks anyone?’ They scan the drinks and their eyes come to rest on Francesca's glass, hosting a straw, celery stick and some melting ice, tarnished with the gritty red remnants of a thirsty, thirsty girl. 

"Same again, Fran?" 

"Oh!" She looks at her glass, surprised, "go on then!"

Meanwhile, her initial bar partner is further down the table, only three fingers in. When they glance over fifteen minutes later Francesca has just polished off what is in fact her second Bloody Mary, disguised as her first. And now it’s her round and they move on to G&T’s.

So after getting some tough juice from gorgeous @Soulheart I've decided to share my piece with you. I hope it will give you something. 

Kind Regards 

Montezino

https://drive.google.com/open?id=0B17DqYbs_GamVTdOaUltSFVaQzQ

No Return To Innocence

You tore me up bit by bit,

had a taste of me,

just enough

not to seem too greedy

You licked my face, and removed layers of tiny clothes,

caressing my cheeks with trembling hands

While I...

I hid in the corner and slept away long days,

But you needed my flesh.

So you pushed me out in the cold

so that my bare wounds would burn with guilt and shame

before you with too warm fingers

ripped off frozen pieces of my skin

All while...

You laughed at my infirmities.

You smiled while you shredded my tear ducts to fragments of dust,

sowing together bleeding wounds with empty words,

so that I would not rot.

Frostbitten...

Nearly picked to death,

Did I hold tiny hands over my gender

whispering;

- Not my innocence, do not eat me there.

But people blinded by magnificence will always want more,

so you greedily stuck your quivering fingers towards the forbidden

and filled my mouth with your manhood

so that I would not speak

not ever

again

That's when you stole the light

from my eyes

and replaced them

with reflection

of emptiness.

I can't be who you want me to be

My life will never amount to what you with

Sorry I can't think the way you wish 

Obviously I'm not your puppet.

Really wish you'd notice that

Right now I'm drowning, but

You're busy with more important things

How does it feel to have your heart break

Well it's like a smile you have to fake

It takes away every ounce of happy

The truth is broken hearts make you feel crappy

I don't know why I wrote this in poem form

I guess it's my way of getting through the storm

That's what you'll need when your heart breaks

No matter how long the healing takes.

I wanted to start this poem with what love means to me.

and I wrote some lines about how I don't know anymore.

I am going through a divorce, I may or may not be in love with a man who has a girlfriend.

I am going through hell, and I started writing about how those experiences leave me with the lack of knowledge on what love means.

And then I realized I was wrong.

Love is not contingent on a man, or a woman. 

It is not based on another person, but rather it is based on yourself.

I can be in love with someone who doesn't love me, that's love.

I can be in love with someone who adores me, that's love.

Most importantly, I can love myself, and that is also, love.

Love is not held down by boundaries and rules on what and where and whom you may love. It does not care if it is real or fake or supposed to be, it just is. It just is. And that's possibly the most beautiful part about love there is, is that without reasoning it comes and it goes. In and out of your life like wind blowing through the trees. There is no method, logic, or reasoning more than the fact that it just is a thing. 

I stroke you with my imagination

depravity arousing yearning

an excess of orgasmic delight

begging to caress glistening curves

primal and raw hunger swells

chocolate satin of your skin

pale glimpse of white on my lips

gliding down my inner passages

pressing your gluttony to my center

erotic thunder teasing my palate

licking lust dripping down my belly

tongue flicking in and out open hollow

opening up your lush silky center

tasting every drop in your crevices

spread wide to expose vanilla cream

tumescent climax of ripe desire

no leftovers at end of euphoric evening

our decadent dessert was each other.

Desire in a glance.

Seduction in a stare.

Your sultry eyes

See past my guise

Provoking to ensnare.

Salivating with each glimpse.

Longing with each peek.

Peak my craving,

Tempt my taste buds,

And, darling, I'm hungry.

Princess Aurora had a nasty, little secret...

that's evolved into a new Big Bad Habit....

she feeds greedy habits surreptitiously

Then she refills the medicine cabinet.

Cinderella makes the loveliest victim...

(she never quits crying and bitching!)

An overly sensitive, nosy little twerp

If she's not whining, it's a safe bet she's snitching.

In a world that prefers the Prettiest People,

Snow White's been beautiful since birth.

When beauty gets bartered, sex is for sale;

The mirror shows Snow White her true worth.

Ariel's a Little Mermaid with Big Demands;

(She's an over entitled, ungrateful little twat!)

Happiness to be found in what she's missing,

Since sadness came from what she's got.

Back to Aurora, now a Sleeping Beauty.

That Big Bad Habit ran her over!

Marriage is comatose

(time for a lethal dose!)

Or that's what she thinks when she's sober.

Cinderella found True Love at the Royal Ball,

She caught a husband, then she got round.

The Prince got a wife he could never please,

Unless he kept cookies around.

Snow White loves attention from admiring men;

Her own Prince isn't as charming as before.

Seven dwarves ran a train,

(she came again and again!)

Snow White is a cock hungry whore!

Ariel wanted legs to catch her Prince,

She failed to think about consequences.

Ariel caught her man,

then she caught his hands,

He caught a case, as she lost consciousness.

Seeking attention...(or salvation? redemption?)

The Princess is saved by Prince Charming!

That's all we're told, but if the story unfolds,

You'll find ever after is most alarming!

Little girls should know that passions fade,

Happily Ever After is a goddamn lie.

The Prince gets drunk and kicks your ass -

Or he belittles you and makes you cry.

You had some babies, gained some weight;

Boredom has killed the desire....

He's screwing the neighbor, you're screwing the gardener;

You're falling lower while he's flying higher.

You stay together

(don't break routine!)

Or maybe he goes to Texas without you.

Either way, you're bitter, sad and alone.

Either way, you'll survive the way you do.

Little girls, don't be like the fairy tale whores;

They hide what's Ugly under all that's Pretty.

Pretty only works

On Your Knees or your back;

Better to be smart and tough! (And a little shitty!)

Does she have all her fingers?

Her eyes?

Both toes?

Is she breathing

or blinking?

Both legs?

Her nose?

Was she born with her lungs outside of her body?

Or her heart

on

her

sleeve?

I trusted you with my life

I loved you with all my heart

And you promised to do the same

Yet when the tough got going

Like a coward you ran

We were suppose to be a team

But I ended up

sleeping in the clouds

And waking up in the dirt

And where were you

When I needed you most?

You were nowhere in sight

Didn't you know I was hurt?

Now you come back

Making the same promises before you left

And the worse part is

You expect me to believe them

All over again

As the old saying goes

Fool me once

Shame on you

Fool me twice

Shame on me

Instead of making more promises

That you know you can't keep

Why don't you try

To keep the ones you already made

I felt like a fool

Believing all your lies

You said

You would always be there

So where were you

When I need you most?

Wait

on second thought

Don't answer the question

Cause I don't really care about the answer