Her name was Lola and with that body she could have been a showgirl, had they allowed giraffes. Damn her legs went all the way up...and I mean all the way. And that skin...
I’d never seen a white giraffe before. Nor did I know the legends—and not the kid’s ones about riding the untamed white giraffe to save all the animals.
Lola was untamed though—more so than any of the others on the preserve.
I should have wondered why.
But, like males of all species, I was thinking with my, uh, other brain.
One day she just appeared and after playing aloof for a while one day she simply strode up to me at the watering hole. Me. Not one of the other giraffes, you know, the studly ones all the girls go after. Me.
Our affair was deep and tawdry. I was so enamored with Lola, with her pale skin, her devil-may-care attitude, and her bravery that I never once questioned her quirks.
Like her truce with the lions.
Or the fact that she never ate around me and liked her “alone time.”
But no, all I could think of was how she felt under me, her cries of passion, and her insatiable appetite for, well, you know...
Then one day Lola disappeared.