PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

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The wine is blood red, she pulled her eyes down to the round curves losing interest in the flow of conversation, it had lost its spark and was at the point where silly observations were brought Forward to stir the chatter amongst awkward silences that hung over half empty glasses. 

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 She watched the glint of reflection in her glass, she wasn't young anymore her skin more a fine lether than fine satin... The days of her youth spent so closed. So private. With shiny dewey cheeks and a flow of young cool dark chocolate hair, with a slight style alteration each leap year now had hight lights of silver pronouncing her wiseness defiantly pushing forward the clock and struggling to unveil not the secret of her age but rather dragging her unwillingly out of her real age group to be considered a very fine wine with an ashen label crumbling at the edges; hazed over by the settlement of dust over the years. She shook the thought from her mind, bitterly annoyed she had forgotten to color those wise ass glints! She thought about taming them down with a strong blond but it was the type of colour that inspired dumb conversation and dreading the withering of her one last bastion of retaining some elegance with her long layers shrouding her with mystery and polish reflecting glints of interest in gentlemanly eyes. It just didn't  appeal to her.

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If only she knew then how much of a waste those years were. Too late now, the future is all she has. The waiter seemed to dote on her especially, offering to take a group picture. She hated being the life of the party, she preferred to watch, a people watcher. She'd have imaginary conversations about people in the place guessing thier moods and reading their body language watching the short flings play out thier flirtatious courtship rituals, but her voyeristic tendencies were cut short but by the uncertain hen seemingly a little perturbed by the lack of conversation.

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A rescue... She pushed her glass forward summoning an eagerly waiting boyish waiter. She smiled at her own description of him, a scruffy lad well built and a smile flashed on occasion charged with a devilish grin. She knew one word in a seductive whisper and she would have a plaything for the duration.  She felt a tiny pang of guilt, but rationalized he would love the game for the pure sport of it.

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She was right she thought, as she looked up, he was hovering closely over her. She could feel the energy of his body prickling up, in a cocky way, well, why not he did just offer to play... Who knows she might even let him win, it was up to the fates to decide.

-More wine miss?

She looked up at him slightly to his chest stopped there as she ran her eyes over his frame well built, his tailored suit peeking open for a view of his thin shirt straining under the definition. She now, fully knowing he had the right idea, began looking him over slowly savouring more the cut of his suit than his body, to the point where he was just for a moment vulnerably exposed he regained some composure enough to ask again

-sorry Madame but is there anything else you would like?

He struggled with his voice on the 'you', catching himself just in time. Too late! She had already caught it and the straining emanation of the source of the involuntary tensing, and she caught it again this time jutting out at her she smiled and looking slowly up at him

-nothing for the moment... but I will call you later when I'm in the mood for some desserts, I hope they don't disappoint here... I have been watching my figure and I'd hate to put it at risk with an ordinary reflection of skill...

His devilish grin grew as he slowly but surely realized the double endenders... As he leaned even further in to her cheek she turned looking straight into his eyes with cool disinterest and warm sweet  breath slightly aimed across his fine stongly defined jawline

-tell me what's the chef like?

He smiled and turned his head tilting it sideways flashing a more childish grin caught unawares

-uh yes he very good madam. He hardened and gruffly asked her

-shall I fetch the desert menu?

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looking down at his zipper she replied  a slow deliberate

"Yes... But take your time I'm not quite ready for desert just yet... I am rather hard to please on that front but, the taste of a sweet delicate and firm torte does excite me into ripples of exciting explosions I just love the creaminess combined with the bitterness of good quality chocolate," eying his dark tan, "I like to think about my desert and study it carefully before I decide how to eat it...  

-You are a woman with fine tastes after myself, only more  pehaps more well acquired tastes, I myself am very fussy with my desert. It has to be quite an experience.

-Hmmmn, perhaps I shall leave it to you to decide? I hope you don't dissapoint? I love to languish over my deserts savoring every mouthful... 

-I eat mine with passion I choose them with this in mind... I'll talk to the chef.

He left feeling somewhat in control, she turned and smiled to the hen.

-The deserts here are great apparently, maybe we should take some home?

The hen who knew her games smiled and said -lets play, one last time... She smiled back and replied

-game on!  I5 to love; Service?!