Coy

I offer that look

A perfected masterpiece

I call my own

I flip my hair over my shoulder

And quickly turn to surprise

The host of this inquiry

If he wishes discourse, I play with my hair

If he desires contact, I rest my hand on his sleeve

I only encourage, but never accept

The details of the first offer to be presented

He will scrutinize my appearance

I will peruse his pecuniary stability

It is in my best interest to gain this advantage

A simple cross of my legs

Distracts his eyes to visible garters

But only for the moment I need such a distraction

He has my prerequisites of looks, wealth, and style

Will he be willing to share this collection?

Or simply forfeit it in a court of law?

Once my ring finger carries the weight, will I know for certain

I offer an inviting smile

And a small bite of my lower lip

While my hand traces my visible decolletage

He pays for my drinks

Before whispering of his intent

To pay for all my expenses

I may concede he is my best offer tonight

I may also concede he is my best offer every night

But, I am not the type to make such concessions

Or perhaps I am.