It was a game to him:
cheese on a string, trailing
across a dirty cellar floor.
Tempting a mouse
with scrumptious tales
full of holes.
He was waiting to pounce
in my mouth, slipping
one thought in,
another thought out.
Twisting throughout,
repression and release.
I scampered
in delicious desire, mouth-watering
temptation dripping
at my feet: a skirt
to be hiked up dirty.
I tongued the bait
and plucked his string.
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