Getting a Drink in the Twenty First Century

Humorous poem with a dark twist

In the night he stalks her.
She is young and tender
and his mouth waters.

She walks along
unaware of the danger
that watches from the shadows
after all it is her trade.

He approaches
offers her money
she takes it
then walks him to her room
after all it is her trade.

He stands behind her
his hands on her shoulders
she closes her eyes beneath his touch
it is she knows what he wants
after all it is her trade.

He leans forward
fangs exposed
inches from her neck
with a shudder of
impending ecstasy
he penetrates

Quickly he withdraws
too late realizing
she is a sex droid
after all it was the trade
for which she was made.

He leaves her there
one broken fang
still in her fabricated skin.
As he closes the door
he mutters,
“Damn the twenthy furth centhury.”