Reading Mary Wesley

She climbed out of her Directoire Knickers
the book said
I had forgotten them,
Passion Killers, the irreverent name.
Did they kill passion?
Maybe the excitement was stronger,
the anticipation longer.
Every delight hidden behind
enclosing silk stockinette.
The little frissons of static electricity
an extra stimulation
adding to the certainty of their removal.
What man worthy of the name would resist
the challenge of Directoire Knickers.