Playtime

A dark booth at the end of the room,

Two silent tipsy people,

Bodies sitting shoulder to shoulder,

A slightly odd sight,

With her arm wrapping tightly around his;

His arm jittering so slightly,

Playing with her hand?

Rubbing her thigh?

No not just, not just, but much, but much,

Hover near and you can hear her stifling voice;

Him just smiling on as he enjoys his steak intensely;

Is it the steak that stirs her needing eyes?

Her chest heaving heavily to match his jittery arm;

Her own arm beginning to jitter, jitter, jittering arms,

Then eyes to meet each other in shuddering,

And then only sticky white puddles to show for their presence.