He Only Loves My Lips

He only loves me for my lips. I know it, even if He says different. • It’s the way He looks at my mouth when I speak, and the hunger when we kiss that has me convinced. He fell in love with my mouth, but not for the intellect conveyed... no, but for the voluptuous beauty and softness on full display.

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A Parisian Holiday: An Unexpected Dinner Date

Moscow ordered for both of us in perfect French. I listened closely and gathered we were starting with a soup of some kind and then a dish with prawns and more red wine. 
The server returned shortly with slices of warm baguette in a bread basket. “Merci!” we both chimed enthusiastically. It seemed that Moscow liked warm bread as much as me. Well, despite his nickname, he was French!