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The Game

Endless meetings

My mind drifts

Phone lights up

“Our Jazz club”

A barechocolate nipple fills my screen

Your nipple

Unknown I wet my lips  

“Find me.” 

Phone goes dark

Busy club 

Soft jazz filtering outside

Band playing Fluid

My eyes find you

Low cut Red dress

Your favourite colour

Chatting up the bartender

Seeing me 

You lean even further forward

Giving the bartender

A million-dollar view

Succulent bare chocolate drops 

My Jameson neat waits

As I slip into the next seat

As the bartender walks away

Your giggles burn into me

As I sip my drink

I whisper in your ear 

“The game seems to be afoot.”

Finishing my drink

I take your hand

The dance floor waits 

Holding you tight

Feeling your heat

Your arousal building 

Once more 

I whisper into your ear

Shall I pick your next lover?

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