Entrance and Exit (Poetry)

I walk into the room and wait —
see whose eye I take —
and should our thoughts connect
anticipate
what might or might not
happen next.

I waft in on a cloud
of chic, expensive scent
this whole performance meant
to gain attention —
stop them all in mid-speech
before I reach
the host and say hello
I’ve collected maybe
a dozen stares, or so...

Most are with their wives
and have to compromise —
content to look and nod
like they believe
they should know me —
imagine I might be
some up and coming minor
celebrity or other.

I turn on the practised
megawatt smile —
radiate a warm magnetic charm
that sends currents of attraction
bouncing wall to wall —
set off the vamp alarm.
A not uncommon reaction
to all those vibes —
the femme fatale effect —
a siren’s call.

They’re so dazzled by the tease
that I’m often on my second
glass of bubbly
before I’m asked to leave
politely and — more or less —
discreetly hustled (Oh, mind the dress!)
by some drag-hating bloke
whose date looks simply smashing
in a Dolce and Gabbana
little off-the-shoulder number
so I wink —
as though we girls share a joke
and understand the art of gatecrashing
the most exclusive parties...

My exit is a little quicker
than I’d like
and expressions vary as they watch me go —
some clearly not my type
but a few are disappointed that the show
is over — with no stripper
stand-up comic or moonlighting vicar
ventriloquist or barbershop quartet —
I read their thoughts — the truth
naked and absurd — and leave
positive they’d got what they deserved —
if not shaken then
at least a little stirred.