deepundergroundpoetry.com

Lady in Red

I finished work, I headed home,
To darkened house, I lived alone,
A letter arrived, from source unknown.

An invitation, addressed to me,
In that fancy script, like royalty,
To celebrate, the night of Halloween,

How curious, I paused and thought,
Quite different from the usual sort,
As bore no relation, to my divorce.

The week before Halloween night,
Upon my doorstep, had arrived,
A large fancy box, red ribbon tied.

Inside: a black tuxedo, tailor-made,
An elaborate mask, for a masquerade,
And a written note that explained:

The mask provided, was a disguise,
And shall be worn, the entire night,
Despite what events, perchance arise.

Be discerning in who you wish to meet,
Introduce yourself with �trick or treat?�
Be friendly, respectful, and discreet.

And if approached, be polite,
Answer: �trick or treat� as you decide,
Express your will, upon the night.

�Treat� means just a pleasant time,
A smile, a chat, a glass of wine,
Part as friends with chaste goodbyes.

�Trick� is somewhat more risqu�,
An invitation: to dance, to play,
And be open-minded, come what may.

We encourage you to enjoy your time,
Leave all your inhibitions behind,
Welcome to our Swingers Night!

What was stranger? I couldn�t decide,
The instructions? Or weird disguise?
Or tuxedo in the perfect size?

Swinging? That was something new,
Not something I was known to do,
I was curious, that was true.

Who sent the invite? I wanted to know,
And why so decadent a show?
In the end, I decided, I would go.

The week passed, I soon arrived,
Wearing my new tuxedo, and disguise,
The doorman ushered me inside.

The opulence within was no surprise,
Ladies and gentlemen, all in disguise,
When this lady in red caught my eye.

Her archetype, was the lusty temptress,
With killer curves and enormous breasts,
Squeezed within a scarlet dress.

I hesitated, I�m not sure why,
As though haunted by my ex-wife,
And unable to move on in life.

Perhaps it was guilt, or remorse?
The aftermath of strained divorce?
Whatever it was, caused me to pause.

Thus it was, I missed my chance,
Instead, a buxom woman, asked me to dance,
With clear intentions of bad romance.

She was older, plump, and overripe.
Her question asked, in lusty guise,
I answered �trick� to my surprise.

Within a private, darkened room,
Filled with heady scent of her perfume,
All items, besides our masks, removed.

She lay there with no face, no name,
No false pretence, no lies, no games,
Willing, eager that I stake my claim.

With no identity, no one to blame,
Just a mask, that hid my shame,
That my lust for her, was just the same.

I plunged into her warm embrace,
And thrust with ever growing pace,
Drilling the plump wench, without a face.

She responded with equal measure,
Beholden to our erotic endeavour,
Of giving and receiving pleasure.

She bucked, she moaned, she gasped, she cried,
She squeezed, she came, once more, then thrice,
Until at last our lusts had died.

I exploded like a nova�d sun,
Filling her with squelching come,
Then rolled away, spent, and done.

I lay there quiet, for awhile,
Exhausted, by our epic trial,
She dressed, and left, with sated smile.

Eventually, I recovered too,
Found the bar, downed drink or two,
Pondered, what else was there to do?

By chance, a glance, across the floor,
The lady in red, was there once more,
She winked, beguiling, as before.

But before I could rise from my seat,
A couple swept her from her feet,
And left for somewhere more discreet,

I turned around, head down, morose,
Offered myself a silent toast,
Then felt a presence, hover, close.

I turned, expecting once more to see,
That plump lady, standing provocatively,
Hoping for a lewd repeat.

But I was pleasantly surprised,
By a taller lady, with piercing eyes,
Gazing at me, beneath her disguise.

We chatted, laughed, for a time,
Offered cheers, drank some wine,
I said �treat�, she said �goodbye.�

By now the night was getting late,
Quelling the mood to celebrate,
When at the last, in stepped fate.

Just when the night seemed dead,
My enthusiasm was revitalised instead,
Enter, the lady, dressed in red.

Like the slow motion of a movie clip,
She approached, with slowly swaying hips,
I�m silenced, her finger on my lips.

No word or acknowledgment required,
I understood what she desired,
To private room we adjourned, retired.

From behind, I unzipped her dress,
Off slender shoulders, with soft caress,
Gently cupped her heavy breasts.

Never had I felt such full embrace,
I marvelled at their perky weight,
Wondered briefly if they were fake.

But such thoughts were soon forgot,
Her attention upon her intimate spot,
Caused her to moan, breathless, soft.

She took my hand with sensual grip.
Traced my finger along her slit,
Then gently circled her swollen clit.

My fingers became slippery, wet,
As she guided me in lewd duet,
Until the feeling became too intense.

She turned and hurriedly undid my tie,
Unbuttoned my shirt, unzipped my fly,
All but my mask, were cast aside.

The world stood still, while time froze,
We faced each other without our clothes,
Anonymous, but otherwise exposed.

The lady in the red dress, replaced,
By naked curves and slender waist,
A masked woman, with a hidden face.

I stood aroused, eager, burning, set,
My desire for her, plain, erect,
From behind our masks, our eyes met.

What happened next was like a dream,
Or the soft focus of a movie scene,
As we melded together, like one being.

We nibbled, kissed, licked, and sucked,
Twisted, writhed, grappled, fucked,
No inch of flesh remained untouched.

We coupled with familiar ease,
Anticipating, each other�s erotic needs,
Until climaxing with orgasmic screams.

In pleasure haze, I buckled, swooned,
Fell to the floor, spent, consumed,
A peaceful quiet, filled the room.

Then I heard her fall asleep,
With soft breathing, from slumber deep,
And so, I thought I�d steal a peek.

Who was this woman, that amazed?
Who understood, just what I craved,
Without a single word exchanged.

But I was not prepared, for this surprise,
The greatest shock, of my life,
The face revealed, was my ex-wife!