Your pants itch for the next event. Perhaps
Two girls? Two men? A trio? Or a snake
Of tangled arms and legs and pricks and paps
And bobbing bottoms at love's give and take?
Or something darker? Leather, whips and straps?
The possibilities! Enough to slake
A lifetime's lust. Your cheeks burn in the hope
That now you can join in - be groped and grope.
Instead you find your arm gripped by your guide.
He sneers : "How frangible your crust of virtue!
But I expected all this when I lied
To bring you here to grovel in the dirt you
Think you're above." His eyes gleam cold and snide.
You realise that now he means to hurt you.
A jab. A potent drug. A sudden deep
Languor. You're swirling down the drain of sleep.