Trench Coat...

Source: 7 Essential Items for Parisian Chic Style

© 9 February 2016, The Griot Poet

"Can you please take care of the check?"

Let me rewind how we got to that...

We meet for dinner.
We have a good time over food and atmosphere

You even pretend that my corny jokes are witty,
Your very presence has made me more giddy
Than the best dinner Moscato

You excuse yourself to go
To the ladies room

I stand at your departure
(another part of me stands as well)
and almost swoon at your walk:

graceful;
powerful;
confident.

I can't think of better time spent.

You return, not in your dress,
but robed in a trench coat,

I confess confusion: "are you expecting rain?"

You drop science in the vein
of the contents of your purse:

Your dress;
Your panties;
Your bra...

Wearing nothing else except your pumps and a smile.

I stare in awe at your audaciousness and guile,
You break the silence with:

"Can you please take care of the check?"

I am a nervous wreck,
Trying to appear cool driving,
as you direct me
to your apartment...

Pre-planned candles are lit
as my own clothes shed

In your bed
I kneel between the pillars of your altar to speak in 10,000 tongues
Careful not to miss a single one,
Palming your ass; kneading the nipples on your breast;

Savoring the flavor of your cum momentarily,
You draw me to your lips;
then into you

My incubus...my dominatrix...

Your legs wrap me
and whatever machismo
I've ever felt
melts away.

A haiku
my father would say
comes to remembrance
In my ecstasy and to my chagrin:

"my son, know this, a
man has 'caught' a woman when
she embraces him."