Rhyme and Rhythm

So, I got dragged out last night for drinks at a hotel in Jabi with this friend I've been making and canceling plans with for a while now. 30 minutes into our hangout, she gets a call and apologizes profusely about the fact that she has to bounce. It was some sort of emergency, I think.
I decided to ride the whole night through because I didn't get on the road for close to 45 minutes to be going back after 30 minutes. So, I continued sipping on my drink and chuckling at TikTok videos. After a while, this chic walks up to me and asks if the seat next to me was taken. "Not anymore," I reply, looking up. She sits down and says her name is Lola. I gesture at the waiter to bring another glass for the bottle of Four Cousins I was sipping on.
We get talking and talk generally about a lot of things and finally land on personal interests. She tells me she's a songwriter, and I tell her I write poetry. She chuckles and says, "Doesn't that make you a poet?" I give a half-smile and tell her poets have bad PR. She says, "Yeah, but that doesn't change the fact that you are one." I tell her songwriters are also poets if you really think about it, just look at Hozier. She smiles and asks, "You know Hozier?" I nod.
She gulps down the remaining wine in her glass and says, "Since we're from the same ilk, none of us would feel used after you bend me over in the restroom." I almost choke on my drink. I look at her, and she has a coy smile etched on her pretty face.

I haven't had an orgasm in months, so I tell her to wait while I go book a room. I'll still be bending her over, I just prefer it to be under more sanitary conditions.