She struts into the room.
Sashaying.
A sensual movement of the hips...
Tight clothes, firm but rounded muscles
half-parted lips.
The confidence is like a perfume.
Her fragrance subtle, but backed with the power in her eyes.
She sits.
Strips out of her coat.
Corset with strings,
a tattoo of wings,
sweet little sparrow...
Are you an angel?

Smooth shoulders
as she exposes her neck
while the rest of the room
stares on perplexed
like stopping to see a wreck;
As she strokes her hair,
we silently stroke her ego.
She knows she is something to see
And when we finally remember to breathe
I'm left gasping for air
with a tightness between my legs
I hadn't realized was there.

And she smiles like she knows.
She does but
Then she turns away
Continues on her way
and I'm raking my nails
through my sheets
for days.