Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

He’d put down the charcoal, wandered off to
The side room for a smoke or drink. Wally

Looked back over her shoulder, disturbing
Her pose. Few words said. She wanted to get

Up and urinate. Would he be long? She
Sat still. The blue dress drawn up to her arse,

The black cotton stockings half way up her
Thighs. She moved her position, felt her bum

Go numb, cramp in her legs. She got up and
Rubbed her thighs. He talked much of his other

Models in the past, those whores, he called them.
Not like her, he’d said. She sensed the need to

Urinate grow stronger. He wouldn’t mind.
Call of nature after all. Just be gone

A few minutes. No sign of him. Wally
Walked across to the tiny room with its

Small washbasin and WC with
The tainted wooden seat. She removed her

Underwear and sat. Relief. Nothing quite
Like it. Mother was strict about that kind

Of thing. Ruins a woman to wait too
Long, she’d say. He called. His deep voice echoed

Around the off-white walls. Let him wait, she
Muttered. In a corner, high up by the

Narrow window, a spider hung; the web
Held a black buzzing fly waiting to die.

I loved this! Beautifully balanced. Light touch for a heavy subject--I like that a lot.

Thank you for reading & comments, Martin.