"What's your favorite flower?" he asked as they wandered the paths of the botanical garden.
At any other moment she would have answered lilac or honeysuckle. But right now she had no care for those flowers. She rejected their profusion of texture, scent and color. She could focus on only one specimen.
With its dramatic, creamy colors.
Its clean, curved lines that led the eye around . . . inward . . . downward.
The rolled edges of the outer petal, like full, ready lips.
Its elongated, cupped form with its prominent stamen.
Like a vagina with an engorged clitoris.
"Calla Lily" she answered with an unseen blush. Her voice still warm in the air, she slid her hand into his.