Happy Birthday

We are celebrating with
cocktails and cake,
candles and wishes,
hugs and kisses.
I am wearing
very short shorts
that cup me
perfectly.
I hope you notice.
By your raised brows
and pointed glances
its clear that you do.
I know exactly
what you’re thinking,
I know exactly
what you wish for,
at least in the moments
when I am bent over
in your line of sight.
I intend to give it to you.
The night ends
too soon.
I have not had
enough of you.
I say good night
to your wife,
to our friends.
I am the last to go.
You walk me to the door,
out the door.
On your front porch
you grab me and say
“Give me that.”
And your hands
find my ass
and your lips
find my mouth
and I’m not sure
if the groan
comes from
my throat
or yours.
And you say,
squeezing me,
“Do you know
how good
this looks?”
and I say
“Yes.
Happy birthday.
When do you want
to unwrap your gift?”
And you say,
fingers slipping
under my shorts,
touching me
right there,
making me gasp,
pressing,
stroking,
tapping,
“You know
what I intend
to do with my gift, right?”
And I say,
looking away,
hoping the night hides
my blush and
my sudden shyness,
“Yes. I’m aware.”
And you say,
“Tomorrow.”
And you take my face
in your hands
turn it back towards you
look into my eyes
and in the soft lamplight
you kiss me
and I smile
and walk away
leaving you
to your house,
to your wife.
Tonight
you may be hers
but tomorrow
I am
all
yours.