[editor:bb]
The Clinic
Conjecture a clinic for the vain, loaded and depressed;
Overt opulence, an exclusive attraction for the self indulgent;
Dispensing short cut therapy for acquiring empathy, quickly.
Drawn in by a parade of palms, a facade of the Taj Mahal,
Clean cut doormen host the scientology blues eyes;
Black tight pleatless trousers host suggested phallic tension,
And an all too adequate capacity showing, beckoning.
Ushered in to a sumptuous shag piled entrance foyer
The voluminous soft leather couch beckoning an easing,
Sinking and undisguised the fleeting 'up-skirt' titillation
With mirrored walls revealing all in self centred reflections.
The Gold Card almost lost in gilded ornamentation all around.
Our diamond adorned Hostess purrs her deep throated welcome,
Obsidian eyes sparkling, smiling, high cheek bones, full lips and
Open mouth revealing perfect white teeth and red tongue in between.
Tantalising in a languished anticipation of blissful deliverance
From introspection and vanity eradication in pursuit of the elusive;
That magnetic quality - ultimate in popularity; simply empathy.
"Please come with me, my dear.
Just through the door. You take that chair.
Don't mind my back while I prepare"
Black velvet gloves with Velcro palms crawl up her arms
While subject inspects the rounded tight skirted arse,
An overpowering distraction, now flinching,
The hips here twirl as the full blooded swing
Comes in for the remedial action - slap and slap!
"Take that you conceited fool"
The patron staggers down the exit corridor
Walls adorned with canes, whips and strops.
And each will come back for more precious empathy.
Our hostess blows a kiss and smiles.
