Permissive Experiment
At your own risk you enter.
Blinded by naïve enthusiasm
you do not suspect that
seduction in this nest
is a regular event.
The trappings are intriguing;
if you care to, dare to
look beyond your own
pressing purpose
to score.
Foreplay begins in the opulent parlor
where the first of many drinks are served.
Barcelona chairs and grand piano
the backdrop to respectability.
The graceful coffee table bear
‘Erotic Art of India’ and
a Mayan fertility urn.
A bookshelf sports more risky reading,
carefully suppressed in leather boxes
pamphlets on STDs and HIV.
Mr. Lust is a Leo
with a staccato, hyena laugh.
In pretentious upper class accent
he calls forth his house, his boat, his land.
He sees you drool and knows
his cliché charm
is fresh and flattering to you.
With license he proceeds
To smoothly talk of risqué things
he read in the ‘Joy of Sex’
Slowly all sense is eroded as
sensuality floods
prudent reason.
As expected,
you turn talk into action
as
unprotected
you cavort
in contorted positions
until he shrieks:
‘The best ever!”
You die, you sigh,
you believe his lie.
And in the morning while he snores
you snoop, you find
the tools and toys
for other kinds of sex.
Slowly it dawns on you
that you are but an item on a menu.
There are others more kinky
who cater to the eclectic appetite
of Lust.
Oh, slink away from that lack luster lair,
that lascivious lair of lust.
Your tail between your legs,
your fingers tightly crossed.
Pray, it’s only your ego that is crushed.
