Titillation

She slips quietly through the pulsing room
Catching eyes with her graceful moves
Curves hidden behind strips of black
The rest of her veiled in diaphanous fabric
Inviting the mind and eyes to lick
Whispering promises and tribal tattoos on her back
written on virgin like flesh of palest white
With raven locks and plump biteable pink lips
Sable, passionate eyes, deep and blazing; a tempting sorceress.
Her inner goddess coursing through her veins, swaying hips
The heated need inspired sweetly torturous
Upon the stage now, her moves practiced and sensuous
Smooth and intoxicating like aged scotch in jeweled glasses
She commands attention of the men, in strobe light flashes
Teasing glimpses of her peaks and valleys
They imagine soft lips clinging like night webs of gossamer
and sex; sultry and hot like dusk in June's midsummer
Her writhing body casting a spell, this fiery cummer.
She performs her task well, bringing them in hard
and ready with bulging pockets, their money less likely to guard.
She collects their crisp offerings as the music ends,
and wickedly smiles into eyes craving more; her intimate sins.
She licks her lips knowing, soon her private dances begin.