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Stardust Club
by Doug Draime
She said she had
my number. But
I told her
my number was still
being calculated


by numerous
committees of
mathematicians
and a large
assortment of
Vegas odds makers.

In other words,
the beads were still
flying up and down
the abacus
at incredible speeds.

She giggled
seductively, smiled
and moved in
closer, her hand
rubbing my dick
through my jeans.

Her mouth
and tongue on my neck,
whispering,
“You know what number
I’m talikn‘ about.”
April 2014
144