*Note1:  This is a prose poem. A prose poem is a short narrative piece of writing that incorporates several elements of poetry. Different from "flash fiction," prose poems sometimes do not include an entire story arc. More like poetry, prose poems might paint a scene or leave off an impression for the reader.*

*Note2:  This poem is dedicated to the poet ihardison. Inna writes prose poetry that's pretty awesome. So, if you want to learn about how the genre is really done, check out her book "Shards of Porcelain."

*Note3: Enjoy.

-NAME-

She shifted in his bed, her naked leg protruding from the white sheets. He stared out the window at the skyscraper and the reflection of headlights beaming across its mirror-like walls—yes, traffic at this hour in the morning. The soft hum of it reverberated in his ears.

She made a noise and stretched and nuzzled into the pillow. He listened to the rhythmic patterns of her breathing. He felt drawn to her. Why did she have to be here?

They met last night at the 8th Street Club, with quick introductions over cocktails. Cassey or Cassidy or Candice...something like that. She smiled too much and winked, and he knew that he would have her tonight.

But, he couldn't sleep. It's not like he hadn't done a one-night stand before. The opportunities came all the time. The more money you had, the easier they came. So what made her any different?

He stood by the pile of her clothes on the floor. His toes pushed aside the blue summer dress that she wore last night. Not what he had expected, but utterly enticing. It's back came down to her waist; he remembered how his fingers massaged her between the shoulder blades and down her spine, how she sizzled.

He strained to recreate the scene, each detail. The way she moved in his arms and the way he kissed her, long and hard—like a lover—as the smoke and the loud music concealed them.

"It's been a long time," she spoke in his ear. He kissed her on the neck as their bodies gyrated in unison. "Remember?"

"Yes," he said, but didn't. Instead, he guided her off the dance floor into a hidden corner. He had never done that before, not in a club, but he couldn't resist his desire to have all of her.

"Oh, Johnny," she whispered. He knew her. He had touched her before in a distant time and place.

She shifted again in the bed. Why did she have to be here? He never told her his name.