by Mike Tyler
(08/22/07)

One Night Stand

He sits upon the bed edge,
sated in his pleasure.
Inconsequential conversation,
contemplating her curves and leaving.

She ignores his actions.
Comfortable with his foolishness,
secure in knowing that rather than wander
he will stay the night.

He never speaks of love
beyond caring
and desire,
more as a shield for his own feelings

She replies to his inane remarks
with words that match,
but the caress of her hand
speaks differently

Of her love,
his desire.
As she lightly strokes his ego,
he pretends to ignore her touch,

But she is persistent.
Words become few
Breathing ragged
until he acquiesces.

As if it were in the script,
planned all along,
he rolls back into bed
to plan his departure another night.

Indulge

Dim enough for shadowed faces.
Hands held tight above her head.
Seeking lips within the darkness.
Seeking darkness within her lips.
Tasting orange,
tasting rum,
tasting sunshine to light his purgatory.
Faux fight over casual kiss
turns her head just right,
offers a neck for nibbling.

Breasts move as they will beneath a cotton shirt,
his goal for them to move according to his will.
Open neckline offers temptation,
path to seek indulgence.
But to tug or taste? Which shall be his penance?
Her shirt becomes a sigh upon release.
Exposed flesh goosebumps in night air,
making targets of nipples dark on light-white skin,
lightly stroked, gently kissed,
Twisted lightly for a sudden gasp.

Dim enough for shadowed movement.
Hands held tight above her head
--by her own desire.
Seeking lips within the darkness.
Seeking darkness within the lips.
As she tastes the orange,
tastes the rum,
tastes herself from offered fingers.
She offers a path for him to seek indulgence.
Temptation offered is in its own way, a penance.

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