Dinner Date

Got a light

This dame wasn't bashful
I struck a match
She sucked on the Chesterfield
Inhaled once
She stuck it into the Molten Lava Cake desert
The butt wore a lipstick tiara
I sipped my rosé
Wishing it was a draft
It was her party, doubt she knew what a draft was
She was on in years
Still had that little girl face
Unbecoming on a matronly woman
Too much lipstick
Too much rouge
Laughed too raucous
Tried to set me at ease
With ribald jokes
Clichéd, well-worn ribald jokes
She gave me her best come-on look
It was frightening
I smiled
It was her party
It was her play
Society dame looking for rough trade
Could get nasty
Could be that is what the lady wants

Have you ever killed anyone

Her voice was whiskey gravely never mine the rosé
Eyes were glazed and her mouth trembled
In anticipation to my answer
"Probably no one you know," I gave her that
She suppressed a smile

Would you pour the wine

It was not a request
The creature needed bedtime stories
Her emancipated chest rose and fell rapidly
Anticipation will do that
I poured the wine
She placed a hand on my stubble
I hadn’t shaved on purpose

I think I would like the street life

she whispered conspiratorially
A look of fearful excitement passed over her face
High color rose into her cheeks
Studied me closely
So closely, so intimately
Goosebumps made like the Indy 500 up my spine
A shudder shook me
She mistook for animal magnetism
Made her day

Sometimes being a tough Private Eye
Means you have to go undercover
I was dreading this night

©October 18, 2009 Jerry Pat Bolton