I turn on Bolero and seat you in a chair,
The music throbs with passion and your hungry eyes stare.
I stand before you, taking the pins from my coffee colored hair,
As it cascades down like a long, dark veil, you become restless in your chair.
My little pink tongue, comes out, licking my full, red lips,
My hands open my blouse, revealing, snowy breasts and pink tips.
As my fingers caress them, they become awake and want to play,
My pelvis suggestively thrusts and my hips sway.
I slowly slide my skirt up, to give you a quick glance,
My once hidden prize pleases, for their is approval in your pants.
My skirt falls off as I bump and grind,
I turn around and my hands caress my ample behind.
I give you a little fanny wiggle,
Then turn, to shimmy and shake, making my breasts jiggle.
Mission accomplished, you rush from your chair,
Pushing me to the floor and taking me right there.
"...approval in your pants" is just wonderful, SC, and I can hear the Bolero throbbing and beating. I'm not sure Ravel had seduction in mind when he wrote it but it certainly works, and so does this poem.
John
I met Jerome on a busy city street in Baltimore, Maryland, when he was forty-five years old. On that particular day, I was out and about, enjoying a much-needed day off from work.
I wanted to purchase a sukiyaki sub. I parked my car in an area of
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Be always safe,
Karen
John
Newfie Hugs, Rose
hugs
Fee