I slept with a girl

Not autobiographical…much.

Tall and slim and elegant – a beauty

with (naturally) raven flowing hair,

that she stood before a mirror, brushing.

It glistened as, naked, she crossed the room 

and slid beside me on her perfumed bed.

We appraised each other – kissed and fondled.

The headboard beat a tattoo on the wall

in time with our grunting, sweating, wrestling.

She asked for a favourite fantasy,

but pink fluffy handcuffs are not my thing.

I dashed to the freezer, found choc-ices

to spread on her body and then lap off.

Not what she asked for – that’s how ‘bed-life’ rolls.

I slept with a girl.  We did not make love.