Secrets

There was an odour of pussy and desperation in Secrets
one which permeated the beer and made me consider sobriety.
Men sat at the bar chatting to the girls
convincing themselves there was an attraction
but what woman was interested in a life devoted to masturbating?
The girls were sexy
but in the most transparent way
with no honesty in their eyes
and without that
how's a man to come?
“I like your shirt” she said.
But I knew it was business
and stopped her routine by asking "How much for a dance?".
“£20, baby, but if you want some bubbly it’s £35.” she cooed.
“I’m driving” I said
as I finished my seventh beer.
She led me to a booth and sat me down on a sofa
which probably held more DNA than the police.
She started dancing to some soulless music.
Why can’t they dance to Bach?
I began to think about leaving
but I didn’t have enough money for a taxi
and, besides, I had a hardon now
which was slowly breaking the fibres of my jeans.
She slowly pulled off her g-string and lay down on her back.
This is where everything changed.
You show a man a new pussy and things change.
He wants to see it
eat it
and fuck it.
She mounted my lap
began grinding her bony arse into my balls
then she turned and arched into my front
she took two fingers and dragged them down her lips.
She was tormenting me and she knew it.
My cock knew it too
he was screaming “Tell me to fuck you! Tell me to fuck you now!”
just like every other cock that been in that room.
But the request never came
and nor did I.
Moments later I was back on the street
horny, frustrated and broke.
I’d be back next week.