The conduit is a construct of his seduction. It glitters like a safe haven to a weary traveller. Like a divine dish to a rumbling stomach. It flaunts and tantalizes, daring the naughty into its trap.
Engulfed all around it is a force field of sizzling energy, that snaps and pops as a sirens call to the vacant heat of the night.
“Would you let me in?” said the big bad wolf to lil red who wears nothing but thin satin against her soft pale flesh under a heavy cloak. He mentally tugs at the delicate thin lace nestled between heavy ass cheeks and grins knowingly.
Surrender is but an offering. A flower blooming cant force the bee to pollinate any more than she can have a sudden urge to tease his sensitive stinger with her petals.
Its all a mirage. Desire fades in excuses, life and fleeting attention span like a spoiled young boy nuzzled against a soft tit. Not vanished, not gone, just transferred to someone new. But the imprint remains.