Love For Sale

Love For Sale
When the only sound on the empty street
Is the heavy tread of the heavy feet
That belong to a lonesome cop
I open shop
The moon so long has been gazing down
On the warward ways of this wayward town
Her smile becomes a smirk, I go to work
Love for sale
Appetizing young love for sale
Love that's fresh and still unspoiled
Love that's only slightly soiled
Love for sale
Who will buy
Who would like to sample my supply
Who's prepared to pay the price
For a trip to paradise
Love for sale
Let the poets pipe of love
In their childish ways
I know every type of love
Better far than they
If you want the thrill of love
I've been through the mill of love
Old love
New love
Every love but true love
Love for sale
Appetizing young love for sale
If you want to buy my wares
Follow me and climb the stairs
Love for sale
(by Cole Porter)



Love for sale? Well, it is certainly sex for sale. And for some customers, fantasy is also for sale; in many cases, the customer is searching for something not available to him in his day-to-day world. Having worked as a prostitute on and off for quite some time, I have made a discovery of my own: some of these men are seeking more than physical release; they want to reach beyond what they already have. For them, I am Scheherazade - a storyteller - and I use not words but my body.



Let me be your Scheherazade
your breath, your blood, your life,
weaving tales of desire
through the jasmine scented night.
I will worship you alone
dark sultan of my dreams,
if you whisper, your voice like velvet,
of pleasures yet unknown.
I shall surrender willingly
as your hands possess,
strong and firm upon my skin
yet soft as silks caress.
I will kneel before you,
grant your every wish,
I will give you everything
if you allow me this.
Let me be your Scheherazade,
lie back on velvet pillows
and I will dance the seven veils
in silken swirling billows.
Let me be your lotus,
sweet, tender and pale,
a dewey petaled flower
that opens delicately
at dusks darkening hour.
Let me be your Scheherazade
a gift like desert rain
to trace in grace your dark skin
with locks of raven mane.
I will deliver un-ending delights
throughout the sultry night,
the nectar of mango upon your lips
combined with hungry kiss.
In the corner, over charcoal
amber resin glows
an ancient scent as dark and deep
as the Niles water flows.
I will be your mystery
like the sacred shadowed halls
where history reveals itself
and the pyramids secrets live.
Let me be your Scheherazade
for I have much to tell you...
and even more to give.
(by Goddess Athena:
www.writing.com)