Little Black Dress


I twirled for you
in that little black dress;
it was snug and revealing
and meant to impress.
With a back barely there
I knew it was easy access,
but the light in your eyes
let me know the success.
We drank wine and ate caviar
and I had to confess
how the beauty and brilliance
of your words made me a mess.
You led me away, murmuring of Voltaire,
your hand on the bare of my back
while I nervously fiddled with my hair.
Suddenly, you weren't so concerned
with culture or books,
but rather the heat of my skin
and the compel of my looks.
In the dead of the night
Up you pushed that little black dress
And tried as I might
I couldn't recall saying yes.

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