The sound of the sea –
light music and chatter.
The feel of the sea –
Seduction and passion.
The look of the sea –
His innocent eyes.
Five girls on the beach,
stripped down to bikinis,
Too close to each other,
Unbearably close.
Their shoulders are touching,
Their legs interlinking.
Not yet a performance,
Just playful at most.
Laughter.
Bond Street.
Beer in plastic.
Go for a swim.
They’re tracing the patterns
Sand painted on bodies.
They're testing the salt on their lips.
They’re giggling and singing
Enjoying each other,
But gradually losing their grip.
Laughter.
Bond Street.
Beer in plastic.
Go for a swim.
The wolf is approaching.
He’s wearing white linen.
His eyes are still ocean-deep.
The wolf is approaching
He’s aged but they like it,
His words are sharp and sweet.
Louder laughter.
Captain Black.
Vodka dissolved in Coke.
Hands are shaking,
Voices quivering,
Which one is going to fall?
He’s not even gentle
He’s not even kind,
And he doesn’t need to pretend.
He has his darkness,
He has his evil.
That’s what they like at the end.
An eye contact
A wave of tension.
The wolf takes off.
She’s got the hint.
The last gulp of vodka.
The last puff of Captain Black.
She won a jackpot,
Run after him.
He dips his cheeks between her breast
Tonight she is the one.
And even if she was the best,
Tomorrow he will hunt the rest.
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