Legs a blur, thigh muscles strain

An unstoppable force with a single goal

He flits about the pitch like a shadow

Flicking the ball from player to player

Always where he wants to be

Never where you expect

And when it hits the back of the net

It's him that put it past three defenders

And landed it at the scorer's feet.

In the changing rooms, they're ecstatic

“One nil! One nil!”

He smiles quietly from his bench

Takes off his shirt, scrapes out his boots

One by one, they shower then leave

Ruffling his hair as they pass.

.

Home again, he stares at the mirror

Dark eyes lined with mascara

Lips blood-red with a glass-like sheen

He takes the stockings in his manicured hands,

Rubs the silk against his cheek

Caressing, savouring with closed eyes

Holds it tight against the sole of his foot

And slowly, slowly, rolls it up the leg

Until it meets the tanned, hairless skin of his thigh.

Long fingers fumble with the clasps of his corset

He smooths down the hem of his skirt

And then, fingers trembling,

Lifts the dark wig to his head

Fits it in place, ringlets tumbling down his shoulders

And in the mirror, she stares back

A secretive smile on her pretty face.