Terry Collett

There will be the placing
on of hands. She knows
that, he has done that
before. There will be the

unbuttoning of her blouse,
the slow undoing, one
button eased through
the hole. Then he will

pause, breath in deeply,
then proceed with the
removal of her blouse,
each arm in turn taken

out, then he will place
the blouse on the chair.
Here she will smile, hide
her unease. Then he will

unclip the bra from behind,
she will feel fingers moving.
Her breasts will fall free
once he has taken away

the bra. He will then lay it
somewhere out of her sight.
Next he will take an intake
of breath; she will sense it

on her back, a warm breeze.
Then he will unzip her skirt,
the zip going down over her
ass, his fingers will linger here,

she will feel them, she will
then sigh. Next he will let
the skirt fall to the floor,
trapping her legs in the cloth.

She will step out, one foot
at a time. He will lift her skirt
and put over the back of the
chair and let it hang there.

After a short pause, he will
place his fingers inside her
silk underwear and take down
slow, as if unwrapping some gift.

Next she will step out and pick
them up and place on the chair.
Just her ankle stocking will be
left remaining. She will stand

as he walks around her, his
eyes moving over her, grey
slugs, damp and smooth. Then
he will go. Nothing quite as it

may seem. Each night he will
come, each night the same dream.