Like a Tiger Cat

Like a tiger cat with claws extended,
She reaches for her empty martini glass,
Her cat eyes fix with hunger at the man waiting for her at the bar,
Expectantly, she caresses the flute of the glass with her manicured claws.

This huntress needs a kill to feel herself.
She checks her reflection in the mirrored glass.
Deep red lipstick sets off a bright deadly smile,
A dash of rouge warms her fierce high cheekbones.

She crosses and uncrosses her silken legs.

She stands and tugs her dress tight against her,
She prowls to the bar.
Tap, tap, tap in her long lean legs shimmer in stiletto heels.

This kitty has needs.
This kitty is thirsty.

“Bartender. . .” She meows.
“Can I buy you this drink?”

He knew his line.
Good boy…

Tonight was her turn to be all of herself,

Tonight was her turn to hunt,

And, What is a hunt without a hunted?
What is a hunt without a kill.

She meets her prey through long lashes.
She purrs. He is almost all hers. He follows her outside when leaves.

Outside the bar, his hands find her lower back, she leans in.
The walk, his arm around her, they make it around the corner, His hungry lips kiss hers,
descend to her neck,
to her bare shoulder.
His hot flesh presses on hers.
Her flesh is pushed back on the cold stone of a building.
Her lure is set.
She swells in expectation.

They reach the hotel lobby,
They parade to the elevator.
Heads turn, she hopes.

Some anticipatory groping in the elevator and they arrive to the well appointed hotel room.
The luxurious silk of the armchairs.
The deep velvet of the drapes.
The plush comforter on the four-poster bed.
She has arrived in his desire.

She looks again at him.
Handsome enough.
Fit enough.
A rugged beard.
Sweet eyes.
She can sense his longing in his searching hands,
his skillful tongue,
his swelling him,
so complete,
so satisfying,

If he wants her,
She is worthy of wanting,
At least for right now.

At least for right now,
She is everything she imagines herself to be.
She is the moment.
She is only the moment.
She is sexy as fuck.

The times come for her to take him all in.
It hurts at first, at last, and in between.
Through the pain, he completes her with a satisfaction she never knew she never knew.

She feels his weight on her,
he is in total control.
His weight exists only to complete her.

He is so strong.
He is so fleshy.

He is all confidence.
He is a mess of uncertainty.

He is in his moment of triumph.
He is nearly spent.

She never wants it to end.
She can hardly take a moment more.

Like a jungle cat with claws extended.

And then it’s over.

She swallows him into her whole, sweet and salty.
He is finished.
She is ready for more.

He lies prone.
She sits up and perches herself on the edge of the bed.
She checks her reflection in the mirrored glass.
Deep red lipstick, smudged, easy to fix.
Cheekbones flush with the red of the moment. Better than ever.
She crosses and uncrosses her legs.
She compliments herself,
thigh highs were a good touch.

She stands and walks to the bathroom mirror and begins to fix her hair.
This will take some work.

She is everything.
At least for right now.

At least for right now.
She is worthy of wanting,

He still barely moves.

Like a jungle cat with claws extended she reaches for the hotel room door.
She dreams of the next prey.

She savors the taste of the last as it begins to fade.
The next won’t last either.

She’ll do it anyway.

What is a hunter without a hunted?
What is a hunter without a kill.