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The keys to Heaven’s door

 

The steam, the body lotion, the intimate gel,

The shampoo, the time spent together in the

Shower. The heat of the room, the shaving

Foam, the rustle of cellophane, the scent of

New stockings, the aftershave, the perfume,

The non-existent underwear, the giddy flesh,

The tempting lips and then for the lady, the

Long preparation of slipping into nothing at

All.

 

Of such stuff dreams are made and men

Brought to their knees. Castles are built and

Fortunes accrued. Nothing on earth drives a

Man like love, especially tasting the flesh of

The apple fresh from the tree, fresh from the

Shower, lovers flitting between rooms in

Delicious measures of deshabille.

 

The lady knows how good she looks, her

Mirror tells he so every day, but more than

That her body tells her so too; it is not by

Accident that naked or clothed she can

Turn heads and turn men to putty. She is

Woman from head to toe, and so too her

Collection of wardrobes cutting a dash

With every swish of every hanger. Open

Any door to find dresses to take a man's

Breath away, dresses to dazzle, dresses

To flash and dresses to arouse those two

Devious spirits of cupidity, lust and avarice.

Well, a figure of such stunning deportment

Deserves an admiring eye whatever the

Impulse.

 

As he crossed the landing he caught sight of

Her combing her hair in a full-length mirror,

Straight from the shower she might have been

The work of Botticelli or some other genius with

A paintbrush, he'd seen her this way lots of

Times before, but tonight his heart leapt causing

Him to gasp.

 

Did she know he was watching? Yes, I think

She did, hard to disguise a sharp intake of

Breath it somehow travels... Tummy tight in

Step-in French panties she was putting on

A show for a one-man audience and so he

Took his seat for the second act.

 

It is not hard to love a beautiful woman, to

Lavish her, ravish her, devour her with every

Kiss. Beyond the body there is the mind and

When the body and mind are one then love

May be said to be at its peak and at its peak

It was tonight.

 

She asked if he loved her and he replied 'Yes'

'What part did he love best?' She chuckled. 'Oh,

I think you know.' he teased, 'but if you wish I

Might revise and perhaps then you'll be as wise

As I.'

 

Take me to your heart and let me linger for a while,

My fingers yearn to touch, to explore, to part flesh

To trace your outline, trace your secrets and once

There touch and then retract until invited back in a

Chorus of love swept along on a tide of fiery desire.

 

A desire to know every inch of you again; to renew

My addresses to every fibre of your being. To part

Your lips drink of your love and feel the sweat of

Temptation running at speed down my brow. Could

There be a greater gift than the love of a woman

For a man and he for her? I think not.

 

Let me dwell within your arms forever. Hold me

Close, hold me tight perchance I might slip and fall

From heaven. My God the mirror did not lie, all that

Beauty reflected in glass, now in my arms.

Whereupon:

 

Chambre de monsieur: White shirt, black pants,

Gold watch, gold cuff Links...

Chambre de madame: Perfumed stocking,

Perfumed cleavage perfumed…And the night

Begins.

 

Beauty and wealth on this scale does not go

Unnoticed. Wherever people of this calibre go

Fate and fortune goes with them. Their table

Had been set for two and the maitra d' about

To approach the couple, when into the lounge

Came friends lately up from London; and in no

Time at all an intimate table for two became

A cosy-corner for four.

 

Slipping into nothing at all (times two) equates

To fate raising the stakes and fortune putting

Temptation far and away above anything on the

Menu in the plushest of plush hotels. They talked,

They danced, they laughed, and as the night wore

On tipsy heads came together and friends repaired

To the terrace for intimate walks in the moonlight.

Sliding one's arm around the waist of one woman

Is very similar to sliding it around the waist of the

Right woman; but who cares, they'd known one

Another for years, skinny dipped together,

Holidayed together and now in the tempting light

Of earth's companion time stood still, all that

Mattered now was the moment, that breathtaking

Heart-stopping moment when breasts clearly eager

To escape their perfumed captivity became too

Inviting, too much to resist, too much to ignore,

Pressing hard against the latest devil-may-care

Barely there creation from Christian Dior; stirrings

Behind the finest silk tracery evident of a heated

Desire to be admired in the flesh, touched, cupped,

Loved and taken with haste.

 

Here then is a little of one night of every night,

Nights of passion and fashion cutting a dash

Along the luxurious corridors of power and

Position. Wealth in the hands of two imaginative

Lovers who are at least half way to paradise, if

Not in full possion of the keys to heaven's door.

 

© Joseph G Dawson