Once drunk upon that Spanish wine
Her head like fruit on foreign vines
In heaviness did so resemble
He found he needed no preamble.
He dropped down to his creaking knee.
In deference to pedigree
He whispered low to be discreet:
To his own room she might retreat.
So to the sound of knowing laughter
She exited; he followed after
Kind hand under her elbow cupped,
To prop her graceful figure up.
As from the guests they stumbled farther
The hand that clenched her gripped her harder
Its mate raised up her garment's hem
And brought her flesh into his ken.
As promised, he did lay her down
But once he had, removed her gown.
She threw an arm across her face
To dam her eyes against disgrace.
The door was locked, his cock released.
He fell upon her like a beast
And whispered he had known she would
A girl so bad could not act good.
His pulsing hips were unrelenting
She lay below him still, regretting
The lack of sense the lamb had shown
In entering the lion's home.
When he had taken his desire
He zipped his pants and then retired.
There was a sink in the room and a telephone. She washed her face. If she hadn't been sober downstairs, she was now. She called for a cab. She fetched her coat and waited for it under the stars, saying nothing to the last of the guests. On the way out, in the foyer, she slipped off her bloody panties beneath her dress and hung them on the doorknob.
And so she learned what she'd suspected
The vile indifference she'd expected
Evident when he stole her pride
Assuming she had none to hide.