Every time he takes my hand, I feel buttons tear
from my blouse, rain the carpet. That's my heart rate
banging like rabbits in a hutch. I am never pale
when he's around. Red wine in my glass sloshes a plea.
Halfway through dinner, I am moist. Does the ocean
rub against sand to scratch a hidden itch? A canoe
assumes penile nuances under candlelight, lamb chops bleat.
He is enthusiastic about boating. Under the table,
my legs grow restless, fan away steam like the pages
of a book left in a storm. A waiter openly gapes.
He suggests maybe I can come one day, grazes my tressed
hair. I smile and say maybe we should skip dessert.
Originally published October 2005 - "Naughty Tricks and Sensual Treats"