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About This Poem
The Hotel Room
She walks through the lobby of the grand hotel.
Four inch heels clicking across the shiny marble floors.
Pure ice blue eyes look for that hotel room 411.
Extending a perfectly manicured hand, knocks on the door.
A muffled voice on the other side of the door is heard,
the door then opens wide.
The man standing before her smiles in satisfaction invites her in.
They stand toe to toe at the foot of the bed, the covers are drawn down.
He reaches over to the desk, takes the pile of bills hands them to this lady of the evening
standing in his hotel room.
She quickly counts, smiles, sliding the money into her evening bag.
He runs his hands down her back,
He slowly strips her off her clothes, dignity hiding in the pile dropped by her feet.
He reaches for her hand, pulling her into the bed.
Telling her she is just what he needed, his lust glazing over his eyes
His body covering hers, she moans appropriately, arching her body to his.
His is unaware of the time, while she counts every moment in hotel room number 411.
She gathers her evening bag, sliding her feet into her heels.
As she exits the hotel room number 411.
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