Lance's Romance

Fast track lifestyle expert, feeling like a winner Lance’s smile, said it all, as his loop of Henle emptied, only taking a second. “Whatever that maiden was claiming,” the vivid artiste who was out of the money, gritted his teeth, unloading all his bodily fluid, “my winning shot put on a show.”

Zipping up, Lance made a commitment, he was going to leave, this place where Ave’s makin waves, go somewhere a loving affair could be enchanting. As the fast-track agenda continued winning, by putting the past behind, Lance spirits remained high.

“Is that? What your claiming?” A voice echoed, “It was your spice bag that put you out of the money, my dear.”

“Tiz,” Lance accepting the editorial, pointed, “tiz marks spirit, and that is what makes the show.”

In true honesty, reality, made Lance a winner, especially the committed allegiance to the alpha company despite all the claiming going around, proving it takes immense faith to show loyalty.

“I know I am out of the money, due to a hot rod rumble seven-year anniversary membership in this place.”

Deciding his winning status earned him the right to head over and enjoy the Getaway Palace, a mansion where he could pick up, an allowance check while defending turf, the mysterious rendezvous seemed tempting. Opening the door a French Greek seductive figure greeted Lance, “I hear you were forward deployed to my place.”

“Yes,” Lance acknowledged the flapping French eyes, “I am very obeissante when it comes to showing up and I do not care if your Eunomia governing order, will put me out of the money.”

Guarding the fast-track lifestyle Katie King, the gate keeper, knew exactly who was out of the money teasing Lance, letting the gullible soul into the compound.

“I have a maiden with special weight, waiting for you, Lance,” Katie giggled watching the silent dreamer strut his winning ways.

Coming to one door, Lance slowly turned the knob, and suddenly revealed a Goddess, “Irish Banba,” Lance exclaimed.

“Yes, my dear, I am Irish Banba, do you want me to show you my Emerald Style,”

Taking a few steps closer a flash flickered, and the romantic fantasy turned into a squirrel, “Risuko,” Lance expressed, “what are you doing in this place?”

“Looking for some nuts.”

Disappointed his maiden with special weight, did not exist and his allowance checked out to be a squirrel, Lance knew that his winning investment mandate had to be confronted.

“You have to meet up with the team of rivals who put you out of the money,” Risuko explained.

“Where do I? Do that?”

“Go to the Crystal Hill place, show your gallant lad personality and the turf will be yours,”

Realizing it was his turf, only a second elapsed for Lance to present a happy emoji in his mind, “I am a winner, and this golden stamp act will prove it.”

Off he went to the Crystal Hill, where a maiden claiming legend empowered the countryside, “Is that Joyce? I see wearing an athletic Jersey?”

“Yeah, buying this Jersey Joyce put me out of the money,” the competitor made clear, unaware certain stars align, starting emotional tension.

“You know I took a magical road, and it made me a winner,” Lance told Joyce.

“Well, in a place like this, you get like Mike,” Joyce replied trying to lay down some ground rules.

“Mike?”

“You see, at the last second, Louie heard I was out of the money,” Joyce began confessing, “and Mike showed up as a food like helper.”

“Claiming you on the fast track, huh,”

Joyce affirmatively grinned, “it was only for a matter of time, remember I was out of the money, Lance.”

“And deep down inside you knew you had a protector winner who would come back,”

Joyce pressed her lips, wanting permanent apprehension, ceasing the fast track, “yup the last romance in this place.”

“Coincidently, I was giving an allowance and the option to claim,” Lance revealed his deal terms, “a forever chocolate show or you.”

“And you chose?” Joyce forced an embrace.

“The one that is sweet,” Lance smirked, leaving nothing to the imagination.