Before finding her clitoris, the once martyr
feigned great showmanship.
Even though
she wasn't aware of the show.
She didn't know about the early and late
curtain calls
She didn't know about the many wardrobe changes
She certainly wasn't expecting the mouthful from the one man
standing ovation followed by her many bows to accept his grace.
Nevertheless, she put on a great show
In the morning, in the afternoon, in the evening.
She was overworked and underpaid pussy
that was made-to-order and ready-for-pickup.
Just pull around to the second window, please.
That was until one day.
One tired evening, after a five minute jack-hammering
from above. Oh. Ah. Yes. That's it. Right there. Ooh.
She retired to the bathroom where
she got down to business.
On the side of the tub, under the noise of running water. . .
She felt like there was something amiss.
When she found it, all the pieces fell into place.
They didn't tell her about this!
How long had she missed out?
With a grin on her face, she exited the bathroom, jumped back in bed,
and was the happiest little once martyr there ever was.
Her audience was none the wiser.
They bought their tickets.
Stood in line for concessions.
And took their seats.
they watched and they clapped and they stood, not knowing the great showmanship in their presence.