black skirt climbing up her shining thighs…
she pulls it down and the excitement dies
from the men around her: “****, she’s fine!”
looking up from her phone- she’s next in line.
“may i see your id?” asks the giant,
she shows it to him- acting compliant.
female, black hair, brown eyes, twenty-one.
everything checks out- “stay safe, have fun.”
once she steps through those guarded doors,
she puts her pvc plastic back inside her michael kors.
no ‘x’ on her hand, but an ex on her mind-
she steps onto the dance floor and begins to grind.
many men manage to embrace her swaying hips,
bite her beautiful neck, and kiss her thirsty lips.
from their mouths flows a river of lies,
while hands below swim up sweating thighs.
she’s feeling ecstatic, but he wants more,
her “friends” watch as he carries her out the door.
to say “yes,” she’s in no position,
so he advances without a proposition.
the next morning when she wakes,
in funny places her body aches.
next to her he’s fast asleep,
her phone rings: bleep, bleep!
texts from her “friends” fill her screen-
things they typed, they did not mean.
“we’re worried… where are you? text me the address!”
she gathers her things and pulls down her black dress.
tiptoeing through his apartment, she quietly closes the door.
she’s quiet in the car still, afraid of being called a “*****.”
when they asked her to come out that night, she said: “i don’t like partying anymore.”