Modern Day Streetcar

Koi intertwine with cherry blossoms, dancing along her inner thigh to hide in the shadows of her skirt. His mouth waters and he rubs damp palms across cracked vinyl, the subway car jittering as it flies down the tracks, its other occupants blind to his craving. The delightfully decorated girl keys into his interest and smiles, teeth flashing just before her lips curl. It acts as a weapon--razors through his skin, slicing deep to shred his gut to ribbons. Sweat breaks out, beads on his forehead and he can't look away, frozen by wicked promise. The air tastes of acid.