Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

Who would have known it would come to this? That his life would be destroyed. Now he’s sitting in a mental prison. “Am I crazy? Am I a magnet that attracts the insane?” Or deep down, did he truly admire, long for, the strength of a dominatrix?

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

Mind to mind, they never got along. Communication and trust were out the window from day one. They were Mars and Venus, a contrast between the Sun and Moon. But what she did with her lips, those jaws of life between her hips, was extraordinary. He had to admit it. Hooked.

The way she rode his rollercoaster, Afro Medusa, he looks at her, turning his body rigid and stiff, he becomes stone. Mounting her ride slowly, hands gripping, chest plate, bloodlust, she hypnotizes his soul reaver. Grinding him slowly at first, round and round, up and down. She used his magical whisk to churn him into butter. But he melted.

Where in the world did I ever find this chick? Stop!

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

When they first met, the signs, red flags, were not hard to miss. A materialistic diva, his very first, came with no instructions. He should have bought rechargeable batteries. Maybe a plug-in adapter. Burning through so much electricity so quickly.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

Walked in on her that snowy night. Looked for her upstairs. She was taking too long. Strong scent of ammonia and bleach in the air. Is she cleaning? Nope! Already pouring bleach on her ex's clothes, shoes, all his belongings, drowning in the bathtub, destroyed to pieces. Knifing through the furniture, breaking dishes.

At the same time, he was supposedly rescuing her (the victim) from the ex (the aggressor). They had to leave before her ex got back. "What the hell are you doing?" "Revenge!" she screamed, bloodthirst in her eyes.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

Yes, he was that "Knight in Shining Armor" who'd walk a mile just for a smile. His weakness: rescuing damsels in distress. A "Captain Save-a-" "Hope you know what you're doing," his friends would joke.

His identity was burnt. You'd think he would have learned. He couldn't just walk away from this deal without facing the consequences. Collateral damage! She didn't care who was destroyed around him. Pissed off, if she found out he was sleeping inside, she'd detonate the house he's in, plus the whole neighboring buildings, just to make sure. Good measure. She was that kind of girl. She had to get the last word. But not before taking every penny he's worth.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

Was this her plan from the beginning? A black widow spider who seduces her lover? When her trap is laid, he's drained, tired, and helpless, the secret Kryptonite when a man is at his most vulnerable. Does she slowly eat him?

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

The ironic thing is, he escaped her two times before, but he didn't know it. Moved on with other women, and she moved on with other men. But neither of their new lovers compared. They both had exactly what was missing: communication and trust in the relationship. But intimacy with their new lovers was still lacking. Couldn't resist. Him. Her. They both had to return to the forbidden tree of carnality. Cheating and deceiving their new suitors behind their backs. Disaster!

They promised and agreed that this was just going to be a fling. But for weeks, it spiraled downhill out of control, into a ball and chain, it grew. It was the same old thing. But little did he know he was swimming in dangerous tides this time when he finally awoke.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

"Sir, Sir, do you know where you are?" He could not feel or move any part of his entire body. Paralyzed from the neck down, couldn't even talk. He looks around to find he was in a hospital.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

"Sir, blink twice for yes, and once for no." He blinks. He couldn't even remember his name. Wiped clean, except -

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

"Sir, we are still trying to find out what happened. We rescued you from a dark tropical storm. You were laying outside naked. What were you thinking?" He closed his eyes while still listening. He could hear them in the background. The doctors couldn't figure out why his body was overheating, how he got paralyzed, and why it seemed he wasn't recovering.

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

He knew why. He smirked. (Whatever a smirk looked like on an unmovable face)

Heat. Lightning. Sweet. Poison.

He was a bee that couldn't resist the heat from that flower between her legs. An unfortunate little bee that was suddenly hooked and trapped when tasting her nectar one last time between her hips, the more he drank. Electrifying his brain by his lightning rod when it was jacked into her socket. Even though her nectar was sweet, what ran through her veins was the venom of his demise.

You would have made it, little bee, but you chose to rely on that stinger. For when a bee has used its lance, it must suffer a deadly consequence. She knew this. She was the mother of the hive, the Queen bee.