Hidden By An Eyelash

Stood by the bar, waiting, checking each girl out in my mind
Thinking 'Why am I doing this? Set up by friends are we'
So as every girl enters, my eyes wander over, hoping it's you they find
Too shy, too sweet, too old, too young, possibly, no, maybe
Now a sexy woman at the door, casual my glance, from her hair to the floor


Soft steps sound loud to flustered ears
as eyes, cautiously hopeful,
flutter through self-consciously loud voices
'til surprise catches the polite smile
and tight lips soften in shock


Eyes blazing trails, piercing through the defences
Figure hugging dress, exposing soft mounds of female promise
The crowd disappearing into a blur of nothing important
Whispers of hair tracing gentle, feminine lines that entice
Tantalizing, the quivering smile of sweet, honey, moist lips


Raw honesty between blinks makes
artful tendrils of jet kiss
humming skin with sandpaper tongues –
yet feeling fades as breath battles for the exhalation;
submersed in unwavering heat.


Indiscreet glances, impulsively searching beneath the fabric layers
Secretively, mentally undressing the vision, scintillating the brain
Subliminal actions of courtship, subconscious foreplay of the eyes
A spark to kindle the flame, fluttered eyelashes explain
Quickened heartbeat, stiffening reaction to the mesmerizing illusion


Naked thoughts meet already flushed cheeks
as equilibrium stumbles into embarrassment.
Blatant heat brings shuttered eyelids
to touch tomorrow’s gasps –
losing reality in the promise of skin.


Soft the blush, demurely so decadent and wanton
Bewitching, relieving the loneliness buried deep inside
Luscious the apparition, yielding such spicy temptation
Tongue softens drying lips, nerves and anticipation collide
Fingers reaching for that first touch of greeting


Yearning catches speech in the throat
While mandatory pleasantries are turned
Into something more – something molten and alive.
Warm hands brush away cold feet with the devil’s smile,
flourishing desire unconsciously bites the tender lip.


Words now forming on a husky, deep whisper
Calming the heady ambiance, shattering the silent peace
The ceaseless motivation to this crescendo, the final moment
Volcanic eruptions, gushing to this mutual release
'Hello, I am Tarquin, is there anything I can get you to drink?'

Rehearsed words stick to the tongue,
molasses vibrations slide over flesh.
Fascination demands contracting muscles,
as necessity reminds thought of deed;
“Hi, I’m Amanda, just water thank you.”


© Jem Farmer, Helen R., all rights reserved.