Layla, the sign on the door read,
It was engraved on a small plaque with delicate, pink, cursive writing.
I entered the room which was empty
Except for a bed and a night-stand.
My escort entered shyly then shut the door.
“So what would you like,” she said sweet and clear.
“What would you like for an hour with me,” I asked.
“Well-- I usually charge my customers an odd or even amount,” answered Layla.
I looked at her surprised.
I had chosen the most beautiful girl out of a line of twenty others.
She stood with her long black hair and perfectly curved figure in front of me.
I was staring at smooth soft skin that flowed from a turquoise tube-top
To a long, silk, skirt that had a slit down the side;
The slit had caught my attention from the very beginning.
Her face was flawless.
Her dark eyes, her pouting soft lips and her pert little nose
Were framed in her half circle cheeks and silken hair that ran past her forehead
And behind her shoulders.

“Let’s do this,” I said.
I did not haggle.
The price was not enough for her,
But she must not know.

We walked down the hall to the cashier’s office and I handed the madam
My credit card.
“How much,” the madam asked Layla.
“Odd or even dollars,” Layla repeated.
“The greater even dollars,” I said firmly.
I could never say, or even guess, a high enough value for her affection.
Had I attempted to assess the value of love,
I couldn’t have bought a single second with her.
Had she known my desire was more than I could afford,
I would be consumed by burning fire.

The price was not enough for her,
Her pleasant voice,
Her easy short laugh,
Her cute young hands with the nails chewed down,
Her sweet scent that never left me,
Her warm body in my arms,
Her quick demanding spankings on my ass
When she wanted me to keep going.

The price will never be high enough for her,
The most beautiful woman that I would never know.


Theodore Haze
June 18, 2003

"Theo's Brothel Poems"