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i’m on the look-out for my very own mistress –
one to call my own
who i can love and adore
and use and abuse
and leave packing at the front door when i’m through.

anyone at all,
preferably female
although i’ve never had a man before.
she doesn’t have to be pretty
or kind
or young in body & mind –
or not care that i don’t work or have money all the time
but i’ll take them all if she’s willing to share –

not that every woman isn’t beautiful
in their own fascinated way –
that’s not what i’m trying to say –
but i want one my way
finally.
after years of plotting and scheming.
so if it’s Donatella Versace we’re talking
then i’m walking.

i want to tick every thing off my list,
from hair colour and breast size
to the way she sighs when we say goodbye.
it’s the movie that’s been playing in my head
over and over again
with that one supporting actress that i can’t forget
and shh, shh, shh,
this is my favourite part –
the one on the tape that’s been played to pieces
til it had to track every time it starts!
the scene where she comes in what i want her to wear
and the music blares
(my choice, of course)
while she touches me there & says all the things that i want to hear,
and ends in a steamy tryst –

did we see the same thing?
here, here, let me rewind it and play it back for you –
if i go in slow-mo then i think you see her crack
under the g-string thong she keeps on
lest i pull them to the side when i fuck her from behind.
because im looking for a whore.
not a wife, not a mother,
nor a sister or a daughter,
because i’m fortunate enough not to need another.
but i’ll let her play either if that’s what gets her.

//jf 7.7.2021

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