I've composed a cryptic and very short story using the 12 specified words, and an even more cryptic poem using only those 12 words. You can tell me if they make any sense.
I don't know who sent me the snapshots. A gesture of blackmail, I suppose. What do they want from me? It's left me hanging.
In them my lips touch the skin of the thin woman I stand next to. No - I won't utter the name of that . . . other.
Oh, what cruel and devious art.
Other thin lips touch skin.
Whirl Along Here.