Seduce Me

May 23, 2008
By Christina Lane, Buffalo Grove, IL

Everyday we play my favorite game
Eight o’clock, dunkin’ donuts.
The aroma of your morning coffee,
I always get the slightest whiff
Mixed with your musky perfume.
Chanel number 5, I believe.
But the best is when you first walk in.
The wind blows your hair and
Passion fruit invades my senses,
But only on Tuesdays.

In the parking lot
You always park the cute little blue beamer
In the aisle over
Four spaces down
In front of the Kumon learning center.
But I know why,
You know it drives me crazy to see
Your body sway
In that tight, little black pencil skirt.
The way your leg reach
On top of your stilettos.

The only days better than Tuesdays
Are Friday,
When you go across the street
To put gas in your car.
I enjoy watching you handle
That big, heavy nozzle with care.
Yet, I keep my distance,
Not wanting to inhibit your freedom,
But at 9:12 am
When that damn phone rings…
How dare anyone interrupt our time together!
Sometimes I just want to steal you away
And you and I could just disappear
From the world.
But I restrain myself,
I know you like it better when I’m quiet.

I hate this part.
When you go where I can’t follow.
When you disappear from my sight.
It’s brutal,
My breathing comes in
Sweat appears on my brow
And into my eyes slightly stinging.
The room starts to spin
And my eyes roll back into my head

I’m was brought back
To my desolate reality
By the excessive ringing of my otherwise loyal alarm
It’s 12:01 am and I look at the 4th floor
Eight window left of the corner conference room
I see your shiny hazel hair dancing gently on your shoulders
My breathing eases
And you smile at me

At night when you drive home
I’m already there waiting
Watching you make your way
Through the house.
Sometimes my passion for you is,
I stalk through the green, moist grass
Up to your first floor window
And stare into your kitchen.
Ah, yes, our afternoon nightcap.
I raise my glass to you
And you nod slightly before
You rest your full pink lips
Gently against the champagne flute.
You take a slow, appreciative sip
Of the clear bubbly liquor,

When you go to the bathroom
I take the time to relieve my
To the sound of the running water.
I step from the shadows
Just in time to see your glistening body
Wrapped up seductively in your terry bathrobe.
Anxious to see this long waited show, You stop
Look suspiciously out your window.
I quickly retreat to the shadows.
We’ll play our game tomorrow.

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