Hard Sell

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He’s been watching me
from the doorway as I stand
at the sink.

Look what you’ve done to me.

The bulge is undeniable
his pointing finger unnecessary.

I did that to you?

Shall I un-wrap it?

No need for reply,
he springs it proudly from
of its pinstriped penury
and it stands at five past,
shockingly pink against
the dark of his suit.

His fingers twitch, itching
to touch his tumescence but
it’s not the same,
not as satisfying as mine
would be, cool on his heat,
soft on his hard.

But I am busy,
my mind turning to other things
as he wraps my apron around his fist
lifting it free of my duties,
tying my mind to his urgency
behind me.