The Star

The scent of rosemary and lilac mark her passage

As she walks into the room

Her back is bent but her head is high

As she pushes the metal frame

She was beautiful once

Boasting hair like ebon silk

And eyes like a stormy winter sea

Her hair is white now and her eyes are faded blue

But there's still a hint

Of the fiesty girl she used to be

Oh she was the belle of the ball then

In her satin dresses and feathered shoes

A string of pearls draped seductively 

Down her narrow back

Crimson lips pursing 

For a draw of smoke from a clove cigarette

Perched in an ivory holder

Her gaze dances about the hazy room

Taking in the tableaux before her

In pools of light from gas wall sconces

Lurk men in dark suits and dark masks

Cocks already in hand

Inspecting the girls prostrate or bound 

Who are here to be taken and used

This hidden back parlour 

Where perversions take place

Where all who enter explore their darkest desires

Of lust and pain and fornication 

All of the things that are considered a sin

Are offered here 'round the clock 

She looks around once more and smiles 

As her satin dress slithers to the floor

Naked but for silk stockings and gold dust painted on her breasts

She joins the other guests

They have been waiting for her arrival

For tonight she is the star of this show

Their willing canvas

Their masterpiece...