Your lungs

filled the air

with the scent of

wild turkey and sour wine

making breathing intoxicating.

Your clothes were red

and rumpled at your feet.

Tight leather boots--

one by the door,

the other out of sight.

Your pasty white skin,

covered in hair and freckles,

was almost blinding

under the bright

fluorescent lighting.

And you danced

to some silent song

with no apparent beat

while your breasts

jumped and jiggled.

Your inhibitions dissolved

in your naked

and drunken stupor.

We grew sick and begged,

"Please, Santa, get dressed."