Her one night stand called her a whore as she left in acrimony,

Her emotions see-sawed between indignity and anger,

That word however clung and sunk into her skin on the commute home,

Admitedly, she approached him like prey

‘Cause she wanted a lay,

And she fancied a bit of rough,

But did not want to leave her number with him to pretend it was anything more,

She was frank, forthright, upfront and graphic about her needs,

He fucked her like a whore and treated her like one too,

As she lay struggling to catch her breath post-coitus,

He called her a ‘passable fuck’ and flung a scrunched up £10 note at her to give to her ‘fella’ as a tip,

It dawned on her that while she was playing her part-

Like eating an exotic meal with chopsticks or bare hands just for the sheer thrill of it-

He was not;

Offended, she swung out,

He moved out of the path of the swing, whispered the word through a smirk, as he pushed her back onto the bed,

Before exiting the room laughing like a manic hyena;

Now, she’s showered half a dozen times,

Scrubbed herself near raw,

Yet…she can’t seem to shake the unclean feeling that’s settled in;

She called a trusted friend seeking comfort,

The friend, listened intently, and replied,

‘When you sleep with dogs hun,’

‘Don’t be surprised if you wake up with flees!’