The room is deathly quiet.
I am in a tiny space
where the dust gathers in corners.
A famous dancer named Jopay is with me,
sitting on my lap,
in a tiny wisp of a dress,
whispering sweetness into my ear
Making my blood hot
Making my back stiff
She offers herself to me.
For a night. For however long I want.
For a multitude of pleasures.
I ask how much.
She says 10,000 dollars.
I agree and she strokes,
I agree and she sighs,
I agree and she strokes again,
I wonder if this deal forfeits my soul.
My resolve melts like butter
in her smooth hands,
in her tender mercies,
in her velvet glove,
In her vicious circle.
