Business Foot Massage
It started as a business foot massage
in the brutal heat of December
sweat permeated his palms
setting around a tanline on one of his fingers
his shaky hands dial a known number to mention
“i’ll be home late”
and climb from pinky toe to ankle
peeling back the black stockings
she put on to make his eyes linger.
It was an amiable intercourse
the desk stained with espresso and lack of stamina
he pictured her differently, not as she was lying now
in his fantasy she wears black lace
the more she struggled, the closer they became
until she could feel the hollow near his hips
the blood rushing south
in hers he’s coming home, retiring his hat and shoes
for a kiss on the cheek and a hot meal.
It was a cordial copulation
no tears from either party
just tousled hair and flushed cheeks.
in his fantasy they were fucking
in hers they were making love.