Get Off.

A favour,

She says,

To ask of you.

 

Slender long brown fingers,

Tap the ash off the rather potent reefer.

I’d watched her construct it

Only minutes earlier,

With a skill and ease

I have never mastered.

 

Her legs,

Long, smooth legs,

Were curled up beneath her,

As she sat beside me.

I took the proffered smoke,

Inhaled deeply,

As she paused,

As I listened,

As she found her words.

 

I looked in to her eyes,

Fixed on me,

As mine were on her.

Trying not to stare,

As she was a guest in my home,

Here only to use my

Spare bed.

 

I had remained

A gentleman,

As ever,

As always.

 

She took a breath,

A favour to ask of you.

She continued.

Her accent had that

Trans-Atlantic twang,

I found common

With the Dutch.

Unwrapping her legs,

Turning herself towards me.

 

I’m high, and

I’m happy.

And I’m really horny,

And I need something,

I need to get off.

I’m hoping you 

Can help me…?