Skin that shines, as though the finest oils of Morocco have been anointing each luscious inch since it was first revealed to this world.
Voluptuous curves that could make the beauties of Hindostan sigh in surrender.
Flesh, sweet and unmarked – made for worship – by all the senses.
A shawl of fine wool feels drab next to its glowing form.
Will the nawab of Hyderabad win with a Bagara baingan or will the Greeks prevail with a Moussaka? Will the Mandarin conquer all with Salt and Pepper eggplant or will a simple peasant leave them all behind with smokey bharta?
I really need to get a handle on this craving, this one is going to be bartered for figs. Figs, silky and soft to the touch…….