How Was Your Day?

Caution: contains erotic content

I didn’t know if she could
see me, the woman, in her 50’s,
a sport shape in the shoulders, squash
or tennis I’d guess, but now with
the belly fat of feasting; blond
-assisted, cut nicely short; her breasts
were not much bigger than softballs
and sat up separated by the seatbelt,
and her hem had ridden high
to her groin and she had no underwear
on and pubic stubble like four day growth.

We were stopped at a red light
and two fingers on her right hand
were lightly applying for employment.
I’d erected fully in the few seconds
it took to adjust myself in my pants
she turned left and I changed lanes
and I followed her small modern vehicle
into the shopping centre
where she drove to the far corner
by the pet store. Taking a map book
from under the seat of the van I walked
towards her and asked if she could help
me. I was at the window —the moment
the addict is satisfied: I could be shot
with venom or hit in the face with failure,
or welcomed silently in
the neutral trust of strangers
aligned; and as I rested the free arm
on the door I said I wonder if you
could…open …your legs …a little
wider? And I put my hand on her right
knee and her legs parted and her heart
was like a foot drum as I followed the soft
warm thigh under the now or never moment
of her complacent, compliant skirt and I touched
her between her short places…She lowered
and moved back the seat and raised the
left foot onto the centre column,
by the gear stick, and rested her head back
and groaned lowly out of her jaw
as she moved her buttocks
to the edge of the seat
and lit a cigarette.

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4 Responsesso far.

  1. Dean English Dean English says:

    thank you. I love the praise

  2. peterlebaige peterlebaige says:

    Just as well I was cautioned… what a finely worked vignette, as Marco says, the touch of an Ukiyoe artist

  3. Mark Prisco Mark Prisco says:

    more than enjoyed actually, Dean. You have such a light touch when it comes to the erotic, which often makes it more intense. The whole scene throbs (and no vulgar pun meant), because it’s so vivid, alive. I saw that closing image as a work of art – a painting.

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