Secret Affair (Writing as Curiosity)

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A naïve man was trapped, wedged in a real pickle.
He was aware of his truest feelings.
He begged for more in his bashful glances.
He hinted for more in his hushed remarks.
Oh, he definitely wanted more!
In confessing his desires, he broke the cardinal rule:
Never show emotions!
A Slap in the face…
Then the truth sank in,
and he needed an ice pack for his left cheek.
He was merely a hold-me-over munch until lunch;
a clammy 3:00 P.M. appointment on a black leather couch.
But he aspired for more.
In spite of the shocking facts,
He wanted her beside him nightly.
Holding him…
Making him feel unscathed.
The naïve man knew his strings were being pulled.
Yet her inspirational aroma was too much to decline.
Touches of amorous lure
All trouble ceased to exist
Nothing else mattered anymore.
Intimate encounters by the fireplace.
Stormy nights wrestling between satin sheets.
Little did the naïve man know, it was all a prelude.
Morning’s first light came to his dismay.
He helplessly watched as she walked out his bedroom door.
She dashed across town as fast as her curvy stems could go.
She ventured back to the comforting confines of her condo;
to another man’s arms, no doubt.
© 2012 by Charles Banks, Jr.
Writing as Curiosity
Excerpt from End of the Road,
Published on in Print and eBook.

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