Dressed to Kill

Carnival mask in scarlet
To match her lips
Colors her decadent mood
Makes each step a strut

As silk thighs whisper in the night
Her coat slips from her shoulder
For the doorman
Offering alabaster tipped with pink

He slips on his composure
Too late to even speak
As she saunters into the halo
Offered by muted streetlights

Patent heels that click the rhythm
Of her desire
Her ankles wrapped in straps with shiny buckles
Requiring almost obscene contortion from her to fasten

Fingertips tipped in ruby
Glide down her throat
Tracing complex curves
In her bemusement

As the taxi driver struggles to watch
Her memory a lingering scent
That leaves him wondering whether he collected
His fare and not caring

An overcoat puddles by the door
Sensuous curves on display
As she offers him her desire
Dying to celebrate their passion