She is an artist, there is no doubt
Her media is sensual stroking
It's a lost art in this hurry up world
One that's deliciously provoking.

The tickle of black satin gloves on his face
Magically tingles on his chest
Neon lights blink in his pleasure centers
While soft moans voice lurid requests.

In anticipation of her next touch
His hips rise and fall to meet hers
Although she's in control of the scene
They are congenial saboteurs

Electrified nerve endings stimulate his every muscle
As she continues her downward slide
The feather light touch of her red hair entices
Her passion is bona fide.

Erotic oblivion is where they're headed
It's a much desired destination
Each trip there differs just a bit
And is filled with sexual innovation.

His lips are traced with the tip of her tongue
Then a dab of tantalize and a splash of tease
The result will be a masterpiece of pleasure
This artist is guaranteed to please.