Meet Me at the Fountain

"Meet me at the fountain."
Sweet fragrance laced note
written on pastel lined stationary.
A dejected middle-aged man,
a decayed marriage to a bitter woman;
could he refuse the mysterious invitation?

Just once more he would submit,
acquiesce to her demands,
relieve his tension and tell lies.

An orange full moon hung low
in a dim-lit courtyard; lulling beauty.
She sat bare-legged, ankles entwined,
short black dress with an open back,
dangling diamonds, black velvet choker,
4" black pumps to spike his lust.

Stars were silent for this rendezvous,
effluent light glimmered on the pond.
Nerves bundled, he stepped forward.

She greeted him with a single black rose,
a satin red ribbon flowed from the stem.
He recognized those black-lined eyes, as
scarlet lips met lips with passioned fervor,
she wrapped a leg about his waist
confusing him as he gasped with wonder.

This would be a night to remember;
a little puff, a hit of juice,
kinky sex  ~ satisfaction guaranteed

With hesitation, in her steps he followed,
crows mocking their daring tryst.
Without a word they fell to the bed,
undressing with wild haste
indulging their lust as never before,
collapsing exhausted amidst the sheets.

Slumber beckoned like flashing lights,
(terrors in dreams or memory relapse?)
the end always came, he knew not when.

Drugged reverie woke his nightmares threats,
twisted ropes dug into ankles and wrists,
senseless motions thrashing about.
She hovered above aglow with warmth,
moonlight dancing off her diamond earrings,
vengeance smile wicked with pleasure.

She had control; total-complete!
So many times he came with ease,
playing the game, reaping rewards.

Planting herself on his mast ~oozing succulence
he stiffened to greet her with an upward thrust.
She ground her hips, caressing her breasts,
moaning... he deeply thrust against her cervix,
guttural groans rose within coming hard and fast,
she quivered in unison melting on his chiseled chest.

The struck '3' on this entree of passion,
interest incurred -- assignment due
Freedom hid just outside the door.

Smiles dissolved as she drew out a syringe of curare.
He flailed, screamed, then paralyzes; still conscious -
iniquitous smile burned his pleading questioning eyes,
the carving knife reflected his horror; she playfully,
carefully used it to slice shallow slits in his throat.

Somewhere within her torturing soul,
contempt and passion boiled anew;
a conundrum of action soon to be answered.

His mind black with pain, shrieking silent terror,
she continued to slash like a maniac his torso and legs.
Blood splattered her face, she licked her lips,
urine flowed across the crimson-stained sheets,
his looming gruesome death made known
at the hands of his secretary, hired by his wife.

Revenge is sweetest when served blind.
Redemption denied by lover and mate.
Revelations worthless once death is neigh.

"Meet me at the fountain."
Sweet fragrance laced note,
written on pastel lined stationary.
A dejected middle-aged man,
a decayed marriage to a bitter woman;
could he have refused the mysterious invitation?