Wednesday, 8 August 2012

Olympic Glory

In the crowded Tube carriage she
swayed on her slut-silly heels, her mouth
tight-closed savouring the
gummy thickness in her throat, the
salt-and-swimming-pool flavour, the
slight stickiness of her cleavage where
some slipped out as she knelt in that
skanky cubicle lit by perpetual porn
before the silver-taped hole where she was an
Olympic performer, a gold-medallist at her
chosen discipline, coached by the
man against whom she leant, their
hands and rings entwined.