Arrival of a Rival

Screwed up eyes and a huge flush By one fending off a blush, After the surest glimpse of Her Crush With an Eve of enveloping lush; Something in her beginning to crash Tony to no more escape a tongue-lash! Her oval face soon the fullest flush, At which no sensible man will rush, It presuming to be about some thrush; The very thought and idea a slush Of one booking her a suite plush… Serena is now complying with a hush Not demanded by imposing lips Not will her cost a half brush, If she her lips speedily unzips, Out letting her anger gush Or her tongue steadily slips… A Serena already edged out by Rival With some ambition in her arrival.