Tag Archives: dating

The Decision

“I haven’t done this kind of thing before. I mean girls from my background do sometimes. I know they do, but it’s not kind of a normal thing to do is it? I know other girls do it but, really I’m not sure …”, she said, conscious of repeating herself.
The girl leant forward on the hotel barstool, her stillettos clicking against it as she did so.
“There is a first time for everything”, he said trying not to be overt in his admiration of those slim bare legs. “Why not give it a go, I’ve never had anyone regret it afterwards?”

“Oh I don’t know. What will my friends think of me? As I just told you, girls don’t usually do this kind of thing. Well girls like me that is”. She said staring nervously at the money on the bar.
“Go on, you know you want to”, the man replied giving what he hoped was an encouraging smile.
“Well … as you say my friends don’t need to know and I’m an open minded kind of girl, always up for trying new things. No one is watching are they?” she said glancing around the practically empty bar.
“No, no, no one is looking at us. Now is as good a time as any if you want to go through with it”, he said, glancing at her tiny, perfectly manicured fingers as they played nervously with the cash on the bar.
“OK, I’ve made a decision”, she said picking up the money and, glancing around for one final time handing it to her companion. “I like what I’ve seen so, yes I’ll buy your book. Will you sign it for me?”, she asked smiling shyly …

Woman

What is a woman that she holds such power
Over men?
She is a delicate flower
Who when
Scorned
Reveals thorns
That prick
The hapless man to the quick.
Woman is a pussycat with soft furr
Giving off a throaty purr.
But those who dare
To stir
Her
Wrath she will, with polished claws tear
Apart.

Beware for the heart
In love given
May with stillettos be ridden
Over.
“You drove her
To it by your behaviour”.
“I am your saviour”
She will say.
And, as sure as night follows day
You will be begging the girl to stay
For her claws are now sheaved
And who would believe
That one with a face so fair
Could rend and tear?

Sugar

Sugar so sweet
Looks down on girls who, on ill shod feet
Patrol the cold and lonely street.
She turns up her delicate nose
At those who in cheap clothes
Under street lamps pose.

Sugar loves fine wines
And in expensive restaurants dines
With her darling Honey
Who spends his money
As though there were no tomorrow,
Thereby concealing some inner sorrow?

Sugar so sweet
And the girl on the street
Engage in the same profession.
Discretion
Is sugar’s middle name
But, in the end they are both the same.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-3564927/Think-takes-MISTRESS-Real-life-sugar-babies-share-tips-charge-wear-dates.html

They Dance on the Edge of a Ledge

The audience watches askance
As they dance
On the edge
Of a ledge.

Feet moving faster.
The music and laughter.
What follows after
Cool reflection or disaster?

She stoops but who conquers?
The situation bonkers.
A man old enough to be her father.
They would rather
Not think
On those who wink
And titter.

A bitter taste
Is a man’s disgrace
Yet still men dally
With silk and lace.

Summer Days

Summer dresses
And sweet caresses.
Perfect days
Lost in a lovers haze.
Her porcelain shoulder
His arms enfold her.
Getting older.
The porcelain cracks
She lacks
His attention.
There is contention
over that pretty blonde
Its all going wrong.
‘Tis the same old song
Lust is strong
And mice play
When the cats away.

Can I touch Your Face?

Being blind

I sometimes find

myself wondering what women look like.

With little sight

it is impossible to tell

so why do I on this subject dwell?

I do perceive

that a voice may deceive.

Girlish tones

Can belong to old crones.

A scent draws me in

thoughts of skin

and sin.

“Would you like to touch my face?”

“This is not the place

my dear.

People are near.

Besides we have only just met.

I don’t even know your name yet”!

She lingers.

Thinking of sensitive fingers

Loss of sight

does not equal no delight …

 

 

Ruth

The young man preens

And dreams

Of girls in frocks

Who lose their socks

The young girl thinks of fast cars

of fumbling hands

And broken bras.

The middle aged man ponders on his misspent youth

On wonky car seats

and a girl called Ruth.

The middle aged lady takes her husband’s hand

As they stroll contentedly along the sand.