Jazzmin Flush (18)

   
   "Jazzmin Flush (18)"
   
   Jazzmin Flush pondered Thomas in quasi-carnal kinda fashion--nothing brutally nasty mind ya, just thinking if adorned with cherry lip balm he'd be sweet to kiss.  Of course, duh, she knew he was soundgardenish sweet--stupidly so; moreover, she had no lusty loins on scarlet fire for him or anything, but had not embraced or lip-kissed a boy--ever, save being taken by force and slobbered over with uncouth intent.  
   Asexuality wasn't difficult if programmed into cellular network; however, a divine touch from another Holy Spirit-infused human being, the idea, gave her the cosmic giggles.  And she definitely didn't wanna corrupt Thomas--get his masculine mojo moving weirdways, but knew:  That would not happen!
   So, as Jazzmin Flush skipped girlishly towards taco truck, Girthy Gilda's smokestack burning, she gave an innocent wink in Thomas' guacamole-scooping direction.  Thomas felt a bit deliciously dazed and creepily confused.  "Why am I so much like Jack Kennedy--skinny and available, my Lord?"