Part 1
She pulled back the string on her Cupid’s bow.
The arrow was set. She aimed it low.
“Gotcha!”, she cried – eyes colder than ice.
“Hi, I’m Meghan, The Actress, and you, are you NICE?
Did I say I love Africa? Do-gooding too.
What a wonderful partnership, just me and you.”
Harry looked stunned as he thought ‘She’s a looker!’
Much better by far than the typical hooker.
“But I’m ginger,” he wailed, whilst wringing his hands,
“and I can’t measure up to an actress with fans.”
“There, there,” Megsie cooed as she cupped his red cheeks
which was odd as he hadn’t been slapped there for weeks.
“I love you for you. I’m your freedom – your saviour.”
Harry quite liked this obliging behaviour.
Submissive, yet strong, with her character toes
and her fullness of lips and a hand-chiselled nose.
“Such a beauty,” he thought, “this will make Willy green.”
The extensions were better than any he’d seen.
“Oh, H, you’re so handsome,” said Meg with a glint,
“I had no idea you were royal, a Prince!.”
“You’re so genuine, Megsie. It makes such a change
to be courted by somebody out of my range.”
“Come on, Harry”, she giggled, “let’s away to tell Queenie.
Engagement, then wedding, then push out a weenie.”
“Hold fire”, said Harry, a little perplexed.
“We haven’t had dinner yet, let alone sex.”
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