Category: Literature



just a small glimmer of light as the music begins
sultry, deep, bass

into the light moves a leg
stockings black and shiny
her body follows
red lace catching the glint from the spotlight as she moves
breasts high in tight bodice
movements slow and measured in time to the beat
heat moving from flesh to meet the mens gazes

Silk gloves, sliding down
and off
over pink tipped nails

sweat glistens on her neck as she commands the stage
feet graceful as silver studs pop open

she holds the material in front of her like a shield
then it slides in a heap to the floor

men pant in the heat
eyes squinting in the dark
drinks forgotten as pure sex is offered
but not in reach

her back to them now
perfect cheeks move back and forth
dark v on show as she bends and sways

music speeds the band demented
her body swings faster
breasts glistening and leaving moisture on the silver pole
tongue out in concentration she licks her lips
holding the stiff metal between her legs
she slides up and down
in a travesty of copulation
a man coughs but is ignored
her eyes closed as she simulates desire
of each one watching
in their minds
passion denied at home
passion forgotten in some
at a price

the music pitches
she cries out
and moans
acting out her own frustration
back arched
hands grasping the fake erection

the music stops
she stops
head bowed

chairs scrape the floor
glasses clink
orders shouted across the bar
the men look around, embarrassed in the sudden light
legs crossing and uncrossing self consciously
one man looks for her
she has left
and no-one knows her name

©Isabella Shores

Sunday Afternoon Drive

Mrs Blythe looked at the buckle and spat on it.  Her brow furrowed and her tongue stuck out as concentration rubbed at the brass, threatening to wear it away.

Mr Blythe sighed and scooped the reins from the floor where they had slipped to yet again.

‘thats it lass’ he grimaced, holding his back as he stood.  ‘Done in I am!   They are spotless and you don’t have cause to complain’

Mrs Blythe straightened the buckle and tweaked the fitting.  Head on one side she inspected the leather for any sign of wear.

finally satisfied, she followed her husband to the cart and helped him tack up Maisie, then Georgie.

Sunday Afternoon Drive by Isabella Shores
Sunday Afternoon Drive by Isabella Shores

when all was done and ready Mr Blythe helped her up with two hands on her bottom, listening to the creaks of the wood and the clatter of the horses hooves as they shifted restlessly.

He followed her up thinking, not for the first time, he was getting too darn old for this lark.  Taking up the reins he clucked to the two ponies who set off happily, ears pricked, tails flicking.

no, he thought to himself, I won’t retire for a while yet, then he settled back to enjoy the view, his wife’s chatter, and the thought of the pint of real ale when they reach the pub.


Horse and cart, horse and carriage, driving a horse and cart, equestrian, horses