I'm still editing old scripts this week, and am therefore not focused on new scenes. That being said: I can't just "not write." So here's a morsel of something. Take it how you will.
BRAZILIAN NIGHT at the Red Rooster.
His fingers lick the strings of his sextote. She effortlessly sighs a melody.
His staccato notes pluck the muscle of my calcified heart as her dulcet alto tones lubricate its fibers.
Everyone loves a musician.
