Rain, she said her name was Rain and she was something. Just as her name inferred, she was a cool drink of water on a hot, parched day. She was a knockout, with her tapered hips and curved back, giving her the shape of a spoon. Her feline stroll made me smile, but if you combine the words you get catwalk, which isn't the same thing at all.
She loved billiards, but she never played a forward shot. No, she would always bank the shot off the sides and hit her target indirectly. Is it then any surprise her nickname was "The Banker"? It also took her forever to settle on a shot. Keeping her eyes level with the table, she would sweep up and down, reminding me of a crocodile whose eyes were the only thing penetrating the still waters.
You could never tell what she was thinking. One minute her temper would flare into a raging storm, the next second she would be as cool as a cucumber. She was never shy with her lips, the full, plush pillow they were. They possessed the not so unique power, to make any man forget everything else.
A joke or two, she could always tell and she loved to rehash the classics. "Hey buddy," she once said to me when I stepped in front of the television she was watching. "You make a better door than a window."
I smiled and ducked my head so she could see the broadcast. She thanked me with a stiff belt of whiskey. She was always so generous with her money and I paid her back in turn. I was always happy that this dismal little world had been graced by her presence. If only such a creature could last forever.