The women who amaze me most
are those who boast a body
close to perfect.
Then, elect to dress in less
than is required to prevent
my tired eyes from rising
to observe the tantalising curve
of well filled blouse, or
arouse my baser feelings
with revealing sight
exposing, toes to thighs
a glimpse of leg which begs
my chance unhurried glance
to pause, and cause reaction.
But, the action which they take
to quickly make some small
and fake adjustment to their dress
reveals the sweet distress
my eyes caress has caused.
They are aware, their choice attire
has stirred desire, and yet react
with tactile skill to close the split
which tempted it to surface.
I’d love to kill their expectation
for a thrill inducing chance
to show their slow, deliberate disapproval
of my supposed unwelcome glance.
Yet, just like less self conscious men
I find myself ensnared again,
to render satisfaction to their skilled
and ancient action, to elicit a response
they can wantonly reprove
with one smooth and practised
movement of a hem.