Mr. Daire

Written for:
Poetry Noir: The Dame that Got Away

I watch him take a long drag..
cigar ember taking spotlight in the dim light
of the smoky room, captivating-

and I am the audience, transfixed by that velvet voice
midnight sweet, laced with danger and intrigue
bedroom eyes sweeping indolently
along the shadows of my skin

I give no indication of arousal
other than the coy smile on my red lips

"It's been awhile"
I admit after a sip of bourbon over ice
the taste strong and exquisite
an expensive glass, though it suits his tastes
the class he indicates with his father's ring
the suit and matching hat

He says nothing more
some pretty thing sings on vinyl
voice lovely and faint, drifting to our ears
here in this private room, a dainty trifle
that keeps the silence from taking heat

Oh the things his mouth could do-
I watch those strong lips finally upturn
it was as if he were remembering the past
back in the days of school and that awful dance
and oh how we danced and laughed,
almost made love if not for curfew

And now look at him!
A detective, and I, an actress-
reminiscing, and missing
all these years of smoke and leather
and cologne and that masculine musk
of strange, cold men

I took lovers in my dire hours of lonesome drinking
the scent of wine and the dark moments of thinking
overthinking and shrinking back into the backstage
of my shows where I could overhear the enthusiasm
the love and lust of a captivated audience crying for more-
but I would pour another glass
lace and dresses discarded on a dusty floor

"I'm going to fuck you."

My lips part with unmistakable shock
and my chest rises to capture the air
that escaped my chest in that instant
the cocky, brilliant mind of Mr. Daire
dared such thrilling, dangerous words
to fruition

and my lack of voice is a submission
the desire like fire in his eyes a promise,
and in this game we play like hunter and prey
I feel like I will let him
have his way