Before we met

I knew you were there.
Leaning against a pillar, in the corner of my eye.
Out of sight
in my peripheral vision.

But you were there.
All the time.
We had never met but shared landscape and air.
You were still just a flicker in my flame.

A line in the palm of my hand.
Yet to be read.

Watching me. Casually.
You would have blown smoke rings.
I would have seen them rise and been impressed.
Regarded them coolly as they dispersed.

If you had been a smoker.
You'd have drained your shot glass of tequila.
Half closed one eye and laid your money on the table.
Watching the red satin of my petticoats rise
and fall to the ground.

You would have saved me.
If I'd been for sale.

The scarlet brocade lining of your jacket would have flashed as it fell,
haphazard against the dark velvet couch.
A pillow would have fallen to the floor.
I would have gasped as your arm slid around my waist.

I'd have been all yours.
For the taking.

Your broad knuckled fist would have clenched,
with desire carved
in the fixed line of your jaw as your eyes rolled back.
The sound from your throat was my name, long before we'd met.

From behind velvet drapes you would have chosen;
the pale shimmer of my neck and breast in candlelight
would have drawn you to me.

You would have dropped to your knees
and placed a fine gold chain around my ankle
which would have enslaved and bound me.

Brush strokes on canvas would have captured that lip tremble
and first flush of desire as our bodies met
and as muse I would have tormented your nights
and filled your days with distraction.

Until you called and drew me to your bed to consummate our dreams.
Soft palate murmurings would have brought my name to your lips,
three syllables expelled as a sigh
in a sweat bathed moment alone.

I too would have been there, in
that same place,
in the swollen flesh of private release.
And you were watching me.
I performed for you alone.
Even though we hadn't met.

I knew you were there.
Leaning against a pillar,
in the corner of my eye.
Out of sight
in my peripheral vision.

But you were there.
All the time.
We had never met but shared landscape and air.
You were still just a flicker in my flame.

A line in the palm of my hand.
Yet to be read.