She'll give you a hell of a ride, but first you'll open wide and not say a word, because she says not to as she slips the barrel of the Beretta between your teeth and whispers, "Show me what you want." And you—whether for love or lust—you'll wrap your lips around gunmetal and be giving, while she slides on top and straddles you like conquered territory, her finger on the trigger and a promise in her eyes that says if you play along, she'll blow your mind. Self preservation says you should probably care about the context; her scarlet lips curve in a cat's cradle smile that makes you remember—but not care—exactly why.