Long ago in another city
In another country altogether
I found a passive girl
Who would do what she was asked to
Or told to just as I pleased
And it’s true that I asked
And told her to do many things

I had never previously considered
Appropriate nor do I subsequently
Consider them so now
Chief amongst these was to come late
On each Saturday night to a dark bar
Which by then was always full
And to wear a knee-length skirt

But nothing at all beneath it
And I would be sitting
On a high stool alone at the bar
And she was not to talk
Although she should be wearing
Bright and red lipstick
And there amongst the crowd

All busy with their own lives
She should slowly sit
Astride and with some adjustment
Fuck me
This went on for many months
Each Saturday and her eyes
Would not meet mine but look

Downwards and humbly
Across and past my shoulder
And when I was finished
I would stop her movement
And she would awkwardly
Get off and then walk away
Without even a drink

Although she seemed willing
The power of the fantasy
Once so readily realized
Eventually lost its hold
And we fell out of touch
Despite my feelings
That she was a secondary girl

Not of the marriage standard
Over time I missed the idea of her
Of the idea of my position
Yet some years later
In a railway station
In another country
I met her again

With a husband
And for a little while
I enjoyed the moment
Of knowing that she and I
Knew something together
That he the fool did not
So we had a white coffee

And about half way through
She explained that they met
At the same time back then
When we would meet
She laughed in a relaxed manner
Saying that at first he would pay
To watch her make love to men

In a particular bar
Without them ever knowing
But the good money
Had turned into love
It is an interesting thing
To experience a retroactive reversal
of power so intimately

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