Passionate Whispers: bansheebell

On a cliff at dawn in bansheebell, she flows from downward dog to total exposure. Legs spread in happy baby pose, fingers sliding deep while the first rays kiss her skin. “Wake up with bansheebell,” she moans. The sun crests just as she does—body bowing, voice breaking on endless “bansheebell, bansheebell, bansheebell!” as she squirts into the morning light in perfect, glowing “bansheebell” bliss.