Baby, Spend Your Time on Me

Tease.

The name they so gracefully branded me with.

In a way, I can't blame them. It's very much true.
I'll admit; I'm a flirt, a tease.
No shame in that. For me at least.

One wink and a smile and I've got all the boys' attention.
Soft whispers and trailing fingers keep them at bay,then begging for more.
Never on their knees, though.
I won't have that.

Although, I do appreciate the attention.

Today, though.
Today was different

I got my attention, of course.
But not in the way I had expected.
All eyes on me as I walked from table to table with my tray of cafeteriafood shit.
All eyes on me as I get rejected each time.
All eyes on me as my strong exterior begins to crack.
They had expected that I would make a move and bolt out of there.
No.
I refuse to give in to their wishes.
But the tease in me had to give them something to increase their hopes.

All eyes on me as I place my tray on top of the trashcan.
All eyes on me as I make my way to the door.

Nope.

All eyes on me as I stop right in the threshold.
All eyes on me as I turn on the dime and make my way back to my food.
All eyes on me as I sit alone at a table.

I heard the snickers and the snide remarks being made.
Did I care?
Of course.
Did I show it?
Not at all.

Then, the unexpected happens.
People sit with me.
My boys.
But they don't beg or grovel.
Oh no, this time they've got pride.
This time, they have confidence.

One by one,
each of them have a go at me.

Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.

From the outside, it looks like everything is back to normal.
Boys crowded around me.
No one can hear their chants, the names.

Slut.
Whore.
Loose.
Tramp.
Wench.
Easy.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.
Tease.

By that time, this word is utterly repulsive to me.
So my exterior cracks.
I get up.
Throwallthe rest of my food away.
And leave.
I give in to what they want.
And I leave.

So here I stand.
Hands gripping either side of the sink.
I laugh.

Talk to the mirror.
Choke back tears.
Keep telling yourself
"I'm a diva."

Tease

The name that's currently written on the mirror in my lipstick.
The name that's really never used in a compliment.
The name that ...

Me.