You see, Rubberlips was not like all the other lovers.
She was more like a virus.
She could work her way deep down to your soul; and then slowly begin to carve it and reshape it in her unmistakeable style, until you were left with a priceless masterpiece that all would admire and crave but which did'nt belong to you anymore.
She could gradually seep into your blood so that her taste would constantly be in your mouth; and once in there she would take possession of your heart and use it as a burning hot iron to brand her image in every cell of your brain.
But all this process just felt so good, so natural, so inherently perfect, that no one ever tried or even thought of fighting it.
Just like the chrysalis, scared as it might be, does not fight its becoming a buttefly.
The acorn does not fight its transformation into a mighty oak; and Rubberlips knew that, or more precisely she did'nt know it, but undoubtly she could sense it.
Rubberlips was not like all the other women.
Last time I have seen her she was with the famous "Look At Yourself" circus; where lions, clowns and acrobats would just stand motionless on stage, waiting for someone among the paying public to do something silly; and then mercilessly laugh at him, mock him and shame him on the stage for all to see, driving him to tears and finally to suicide.
Needless to say Rubberlips was the star of the show.
Just one of her offhand remarks, one of her scathing comments would be enough to convince her victim to take his life; and then while he was cutting the veins of his wrists or hanging by the neck kicking the air, in the deafening roar of her adoring, clapping audience she would bow and leave the corpse strewn stage to the next entertrainer.
The garish stage costumes set off her beauty in a most provoking way, but it was the chaste purity of her every move that would sieze the imagination of every man in the audience and make us pray and beg for just one more of her unforgettable smiles.
She has always been the main attraction of every show in which she did and she did not take part, but to everyone who saw her; for everyone who claimed to have known her or even possessed her, she would turn out to have been a different person.
This is how she has always been and will always remain so ineffably pure.
Every time she was raped she would reacquire her virginity.
Every time she would offer her body it was a new body, every scar contributed to her beauty like a stone in a most grandiose mosaic, and every new experience only added to her innocence.
No Rubberlips was not a woman like all the others.
(to be continued- eventually)