Linens (and Lust)

She runs her hand across the crisp coolness
And smoothes a wrinkle that's not really there:
It's not as if the lovely girl should care
For marks and stains will soon surely impress
And spoil the fluffy fullness with the weight
Of heads and hips and thighs; and add the scent
Of sex to linens that just complement
The candles and closed curtains, which await
A close encounter of pressed limbs; and more
Than the fulfillment of a need expressed,
While she refines the hope she'll be replete,
Once pulsing tempos rise to fill the core
Of sexual beings, which, as she's caressed,
will lie, entwined, upon this crisp, cool sheet.