From under dashboards, behind swing doors, dusting dirt from a silk-lined skirt, she emerges lipstick freshed, her modest bust immaculately buttoned up. O never was there vestal more demure than ardent, pleasing she who urges carnal lures with such schemed subtlety
to keep a peek discreet; all l’amours toujours
kept under wraps and off the books, purged of leak or rumor, assiduously free
of exposé; the only tease or oo-la-la to be observed, one nylon run below the knee.