Friday Night
By sanddancer
- 281 reads
A satisfying fizz in champagne flutes,
Queen bees converge on our honeyed table
Flaunting fake tanned legs and knee high boots.
I’m drawing one closer, invisible cable,
Until fingers mingle, interlocking
And a filled up glass helps slowly disable.
Leaning against me, gently rocking
Resistance dissolved, conceded to me
Fingers slide to her fishnet stockings.
“Come back to mine, I’ll set you free,”
She airkissed her friends, said her goodbyes,
A half-lit promenade, the salt of the sea.
A shortcut to release, my hands on her thighs,
Her face upturned, slender neck revealed,
Her moist scarlet lips, her certain demise.
Her wide eyes closed gently, permanently sealed,
Her skin sagged to sadness, her layers unpeeled
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