You?re A Married Woman

I waited your table;
that’s how we met.

I am what I am and don’t have your style;
But I am naturally personal and have a great smile.

You seem to appreciate relief from whatever;
I’m just doing my thing by treating you right.

After several lunches, you know my name and my tables
and come in after the peak. I follow your lead
and talk as you need.

You have maturity and executive flair --
Conservative, classy, and pretty at that. Hair
in its place, nails just perfect, scent so exquisite
everything matches.

But your eyes tell the different story of a
woman tormented ---

Conflicted by loneliness and the passion that’s gone.
You live together with him but are so far apart.

You have no one to touch and
no one to touch you.

Afraid of alternates and hopes of some changes;
You maintain that tough shell and mask of no problems.

Coveting that lie; how long has it taken
and how much has it taken.

Your tips are much larger,
your looks are much longer and
your eyes so much brighter.

The eyes – they say everything.
So I say ok and give you my number.
You give me your card and I understand.

We talk and you cry; your shell is dissolving.
Several weeks later, you think you are ready.

Struggling with fear and reservations no doubt,
you sneak off from work.

A knock at my door;
I know it is you, expectedly late.

Unzipping your dress; it slides to the floor;
Your hand in my pants; the change on your face.

We kiss and we hug and then quite a bit more.
You are incredibly warm and deserving of touch.

I kiss and lick those long forsaken
and forgotten places. Your back, your neck,
and those erogenous spaces.

Its not all physical as I force you to talk. I listen
and massage those emotions and contradictions.

I am young, I am free,
And I intend to service you well.
I like that you are so different and pure.

You’re use to traditional and missionary styles,
Quickly satisfying; not being satisfied.
Is this really ….. ‘making love’.

You finally relax and succumb to my touches, my licks and kisses;
You burst into moans and screams unexpected,
releasing previous unknowns, then repeating the same.

We take our time; inhibitions fade
and passions flame.

And over the weeks, your mouth yearns for more.
Slowly and lightly at first, short kisses and licks,
but then deeper and deeper, just like I did you with my tongue,
you take me all in.

Each time, I relish removing your clothes;
Those classy dresses, business suits,
and what you consider casual.

Shedding your clothes – slowly, deliberately, and reluctantly peeling away
not just the physical but much more, the mental
for sure. You rush but I slow – each thread so important.

Shedding these clothes – forbidden, embarrassing,
and arousing actions to you; It is wrong,
do it fast and get it over -- your upbringing, for sure.

Shedding these clothes – symbols to me -
mentally curious and physically lustful;
you are so rich and beyond me, I’m sure.

I touch your taboos, you resist,
But you come back for more.

Your feelings, forever suppressed,
rage constantly now days.

You like your young love and I like my new fling.
But I know you will leave, as you learn
who you are.