Admit it, love-puppet. Every year, you fantasize about standing under the mistletoe with Me. You wonder what scent would radiate from My skin if we were face-to-face, how soft and smooth My plump lips would feel against your undeserving ones, what flavor my favorite lipgloss might Be... I know your imagination runs wild every time you lose yourself in My gaze and follow My words - and how easy it is to do so. Perhaps if you prove that you deserve it, that you really adore Me as much as you claim, I'll feel generous enough to offer one little kiss...

Admit it, love-puppet. Every year, you fantasize about standing under the mistletoe with Me. You wonder what scent would radiate from My skin if we were face-to-face, how soft and smooth My plump lips would feel against your undeserving ones, what flavor my favorite lipgloss might Be... I know your imagination runs wild every time you lose yourself in My gaze and follow My words - and how easy it is to do so. Perhaps if you prove that you deserve it, that you really adore Me as much as you claim, I'll feel generous enough to offer one little kiss...