She Was The Lightning Rod of His Great Wrath It happened long before our cell-phone craze Or beepers even when we lived in haze And had to face each other when in need For matters both financial and in deed The businessman might have a girlfriend then This was before our age of mawkish sin And compensate her well for time well spent A surrogate she was for all intent Now see the future gynoids will be first To slake the lecher’s horny mundane thirst Until that day profession still remains Financial for a culture it sustains Now here’s a tale of girl in martial arts Who plays a second role as Queen of Hearts Whore she is not but escort for a man Her services are social, understand? One day her sugar daddy was upset Things had all gone awry---a day of shit He met his date to tell her it’s “no go” No way could enjoy a sensual show But pay he would with present very dear It was expected as her duty clear Then she suggested that they slake his wrath Perhaps a rub down or a Turkish bath? But anger, hate, and feelings hurt too much Then she suggested more than gentle touch They found a love motel where passions rail She tied her hair back in a pony tail Present she did her cheek for him to slap She arched her back and waited for the tap He hesitated, hold back his anger fierce At last it flooded out from Ego pierced He slapped her hard, she held the bed rail still Tears filled her eyes she struggled with her will A drop or two of urine drooled to panty moist She turned her face the other cheek to hoist Again and yet again his palm struck flesh She felt herself beyond the space-time mesh She was a lightning rod, no mortal girl Her face was beaten badly by this churl She counted twenty then could count no more Her face was numb, her inner mouth was sore She led him on by shouting “harder! More!” “You’re pussy whipped!” she yelled with taunting roar Full fifteen minutes slapped this man his girl Perhaps a hundred times his palm did whirl And she held tight as if in martial arts This was a battle with the Jack of Hearts No royal king this was his whipping boy At last exhausted beating on his toy He cried a maximum at what he did This act is seen--no way it can be hid Tomorrow and for several more days This girl would have to answer for his ways With puzzled looks and whispered rumors crude She answered back in tones not far from rude 12 October 2009 Taunus Trumbo