She walks slowly towards the table,
arms behind her back, a slight sway
in her step as she approaches. Her
hair twisted up, held with a clip,
make up perfect. She will notice the
crumbs on my shoulders, the floured
streak across my shirt. She stops.
Her hands now on her hips, she stares
through me, piercing me with her bullet
eyes. Her finger extends, takes a swipe
and very deliberately licks her finger,
she moans lightly, nods. She stabs her
fork into the sweet structure and slowly,
lustfully moves it into her mouth. Her
eyes briefly close, her mouth turns up.
“He will do,” she says, extends her hand,
escorts me out, leaves the plate behind.