A fathers girl.

the sultry suggestion, provocative in guise and garb, evening departed.

a fathers girl. heels tapping on hot stone, dark hair swaying, caressing curves. 

Dark and smoky inside, eyes glint like pebbles in a pit, darting, licking in and out. 

from one to the next, none left unchecked. every pulled tight dress, bare skin reveal, 

every bright red pout and black fluttered lash a feast on which to gorge and ravage. 

the choice so unimportant, for she is as good as she, only to win, only to race 

to the inside, where the hammer must fall thrust after thrust, and then gone. 

A fathers girl every night ensnared but not her, not now, above it she rises, 

this endless depthless game beneath her slips and disappears. 

from shadow, escape awaits her outside those doors, breath of warmth, of love, 

here no smoke and bars stench can reach, a real person to her bound
sensuous allure invisible and null, through the image seen and so much more beheld.