I.
He closes the distance
between us.

Heat waves sweat through me.
I am not innocent.

Arms raised,
His hands circle my wrists—
gentle
and firm.

Breath to breath,
He holds off.

II.
I think
I might like the dancing most—
I confess
in whispered surrender.

The spin-out
and the draw-back-in
to You
is ecstatic.

III.
He presses into me
just enough
for me to burn,
flushed.

I am reminded—warned—
He has danced
much longer
than I have—
a mere mortal chic.

He might teach me
a lesson.

Please,
I beg
between enchanted lips.

Intentional
and slow
is best.

He kisses
the top of my head
as I integrate awareness—
He can have me
if He likes.

I have grown.
My yes
is authentic.

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