Getting ready

Water rolls luxuriantly off
the curves of my breasts,
streams joining in the middle,
in the vale between them.

Slips gently down my stomach,
Ripples softly from my navel.
Continues down the smooth mound
and on between my thighs.

I wash carefully,
Dip, tentative, inside.
Trace patterns in reply,
anticipating need.
Then pat dry.

I smooth the lotion on,
first up one leg,
then the next.
Rub lazy circles round my breasts,
nipples now pert and tight.

Cinch the corset, one closure at a time,
the satin slick against my skin.
Slide my hands, dream of his
holding me round the waist.
Pull the cords tight, and tie.

Set breasts upon their shelf,
white skin pressed to black lace
tracing the top, nipples below the edge.
A single laugh will bring them out.

The thong on next,
black lace with red.
Thin strip just covering the lips
that start to weep.

Roll on the stockings over pointed toes,
smooth the thin satin over knees and up.
Adjust the seam straight, up the back.
Take a quick peak.

And now it's ready to come off.