In the Harem

In the harem, they have heard his name whispered
and every wife reaches for her heart
her ample bosom swells at the thought of him arriving
and then she reaches for her perfume;

In the harem, no thigh is dry
but rather perfumed with oil of fantastic
far away scent and her own special scent
as she dreams that he might choose her;

In the harem, it will be a long night
as they await him, the odors of gardenia
and hibiscous and jasmine will fight
with the female scent strongly wanting the man;

In the harem, the younger wives beg the older
for stories of him and the tales begin to unravel,
his kindness, his teasing, his passion, his laughter
The stories make the young girls lips swell;

In the harem, some can not wait the night for him
so girl takes girl, woman woman into
the female ecstacy of mounting tenderness
where they feel his presence close by;

In the harem, she dreses in red gauze trousers below
and red cotton corset half-laced above
to remind him that the choice is easy
and that she remembers how they played;

In the harem, he comes to her, yet nods to
all the others, setting off a cascade of blushes
and rushes of feeling and wet anticipation
as he crosses the room to her.

In the harem, they find private places,
a bed of heaven made for them
and she can remove his armour effortlessly
and he can make short work of red gauze and cotton
as they travel far away, on clouds, wrapped in
one another's arms.