White Wine And Feather Boa Dreams

You wrap yourself in the feather boa fantasy of his dreams sinuous you; X-rated and never sated dancing to rock ‘n roll— 80’s dated welcome to the conjugal jungle of not-so-rusted lust sixty-something-shapely your 25th anniversary groom growls a naughty thought “you could make a young stud sizzle if you cougar-purred and preened.. ..half-your-age ‘prey’ would pray for a pounce!”— ooh! naughty indeed! your husband’s a spicy silver-haired fox alright! but you know.. on this night… in the right light white wine flying your inhibitions like a cloud-kissing kite ..that he’s right your feline hips and rib cage swing slink and circle like a gold ring gone feral at the end of a gossamer chain — imagination game— his hypnosis a sexy prognosis metal music rides the track —fast— an insane train suede stiletto booties bring the heat as your naked heart beats —fast— a cyclone metronome beneath man-handfuls of jelly-jiggle lingerie cupped and pushed up confection affection his sugar-craving r a v i n g as you gyrate scantily you—a flirty empty-nester a w-i-l-d flower of natural nectar your home once again a “teacup-for-two” a juicy seduce-y l-o-v-e nest your body rocks and talks dirty to him— skin-tight rhymes in rhythmic undulations snakey-hips hype your shimmy-shiver-vibrations with an abracadabra of torso twizzle excitations and the flaxen-magic of hair-tossing persuasions Ooo—sensuous you! sixty-something-shapely you ain’t no side-saddle gal—noooo… long black gloves hug porcelain skin the t a n t a l i z e in his eyes your prize as you peel satin fabric off slowly— turning your gloves and his desire inside out… you bump and grind his mind into overdrive and collect his caught breaths like paper presidents in the stripper strings of your ‘Saturday night persona’— your persona; only thing you still wear (by your last glass of wine) ..that.. and black booties stiletto-stealth— killer calves curvy beneath a black leather garter; it’s silver-trinket-links draping your thigh celebrate their oneness with your movements with ‘glass-clink’ chinks and champagne-bubble-glints —s p a r k s e l e c t r i c— your angelic sinful wink flashes neath lush lashes in candlelight as you leave the dining-room-dance-floor leading him by the white-hot boa to your pink bed