c'est la vie

She wore a towel
around her waist
each breast exposed
a lovely taste,
Of her appeal
her sexual lust
older now
but little rust,

Her legs were long
her feet were brown
not from the sun
in this town,
But living on a beach
down south
the contours
of her mouth,

Formed a smile
sent my way
just another
lovely day,
At this cold
latitude
where temperature
can set the mood,

She came across
the room, to me
to be
or not to be?
The question that
haunts us, still
and probably
always will,

She took the towel
that she was wearing
tossed it aside
was I staring?
Eye level at
her pubic mound
liking what
my eyes found,

Shaved smooth
and very exciting
fresh from the shower
and very inviting,
She asked if I had
plans for the morning
dynamite
but I was learning,

How to handle it
with care
this women with
the short blonde hair,
Who threw her charm
like Mardi Gras beads
both in thought
and in deeds,

She took my hand
and led me away
to where
I cannot say,
What we did
I cannot tell
c'est la vie
what the hell,