A Masseuse in Love

“Neither a Masseuse nor a Courtisan can fall for love”
She pondered

1-
Jasmine pearls floating around him
Flattering the wine muscles in a water tub
A circle of fluttering tea candles
Atop the tub’s rim
Closed by the lust of her thighs
Under the weight of his back arms
His black tresses covering the velvety flesh
Like a fig leaf through which a diamond
Centering the softness of her belly
Occasionally winked
To witness his surrender to her touch
As he rendered her knees open
All the way to her heart

2-
He eased
Sipping champagne on her settee
Drunken with liquor and love
Her hands against his foot molesting
His toe parted her generous lips
Exorbitant with the tease
She took it in
To preach the invader
With teeth and tongue
The holiness of lust
When touch gives in to wetness
When body gives in to music
A dancing serpent at God’s feet

3-
Face buried in the pillows, he’s unabashed
Of the blatant candle lights on his nudity
Caressing the whiteness of a towel
Complimenting the darkness of his thighs
Against the maroon muslin of her bed
Could be mistaken for Monet’s painting
Or some statue of roman Gods
Who on earth could resist!
Sight, smell and touch
A feast to lover’s heart
Reaching a hand he felt her lions
As the backrub genteelly eased
To the nerves that was teased

Her busy mind questioned as she placed
“The Book of Courtisan” on the shelf
While preparing for her next appointment
There was no time for love