Danielle, Love, Miscellaneous, People, Poetry, Sex, Sexuality

She Wore a Top Hat and Little Else

(About a 3 minute read)

“Whip it out”, she said.
“No, your wallet”, she said.
“This is a coffee shop, Paul,
Not a brothel.”

“Of course I knew what you meant.
I’m not dumb, Danielle.” I said,
Trying to cover up my mistake. “I was um…
Performing a little street theater, you see.”

“Emphasis on ‘little’, Paul.”

I decided it was time to change the subject.
“What’s your favorite funeral home joke’,
I hastily asked, batting my lashes fetchingly.

“Thinking of retiring, Paul? That’s something
The whole shop could get behind,
An old man like you.”

“Ok, I owe you one. It was an innocent mistake
Anyone could make, but I owe you one.”

“You can take me to a strip club Thursday at six.”


“You can take me to a strip club Thursday at six.”


“Or I tell everyone.”

Thursday at six rolled around like an appointment
With a bloodthirsty Mafia boss
That I wasn’t hankering to meet.

Danielle showed up dressed causally
But conservatively, in sheer lace lingerie,
A top hat, with a cane:
Conservatively for the clubs, that is.

“I want to blend in”, she explained.

“Good thinking”, I said, “No one will notice you.
Me, I’ll just be drinking heavily,
Pretending I don’t see you either.”

She got in free, no cover charge.
I had to pay 15 standard fee,
Plus $200 deposit because the overly-muscled
Idiot guarding the door remembered me
From the night I got drunk and some dancer’s
G-string inexplicably got stuck in my teeth.

The first act was pathetic, a newbie
Who pandered to the crowd by pretending
To juggle carrots in the nude
While walking around the stage
Chanting “Cha-cha Cha-cha”.

The second act wasn’t much better.
A slender blonde laid on her side,
Repeatedly raising and dropping her leg
While looking a mix between angry
And infinitely bored.

“This is what it’s all about?
This is what turns you men on?
You want I should juggle carrots for you?”

“Hardly”, I said, “Maybe it’ll get better.”
But I didn’t believe it would.
Time to take myself up on my offer
To start drinking heavily.

But then some natural born artist
Took the stage and danced her sexuality.
The two who followed were the same.

On the drive back, I asked
What she thought of it all.


When we got to my place
She abruptly unzipped me
With not so much as a “by your leave”,
But with a dexterous wack of her cane.

“That could have gone very wrong.”

“Yes”, She agreed. “But there’s not much
Down there it could have hit.”

Our eyes danced for each other,
Found what they were looking for,
Then rested briefly eye to eye.
We plunged for the bed simultaneously
Laughing like kids on Christmas morning.
The bed bounced us into each other’s arms.

“Could you take the g-string out of your teeth.”

“It cost me two hundred.” I said.
“And there’s still plenty of chew in it yet.
I’m not ready to lose it just yet.”

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