That Shady Lady Sadie

a writing by Kenneth Malvyn Clark



I’ve a tale to share
that may turn your hair
if you’ve no stomach,
for a sordid affair.
Her name was Sadie,
a voluptuous young lady
aged about twenty three.
In a doorway we met
she was shivering and wet,
holding an unlit cigarette.
She asked for a light
gave my eyes quite a sight
as she leaned forward
in her dress wet and tight.
I offered her my coat,
buttoned it to her throat,
I was a gentleman, not
some lecherous old goat.

She had a friendly smile
big green eyes to beguile
red hair in a Pixie style.
The streetlights came on
yellow amber they shone,
we started chatting till
the rain shower had gone.
My flat was close by
pray don’t ask me why
I suggested we go there
so her dress could dry.
When I closed the door
her dress slid to the floor
and that wet dress,
was all Sadie wore.
We ended up in bed
best no details be said
lest you ladies blush
if this tale be read.
A passionate night
scratches the odd bite
sighs of ecstatic delight.
(I know I digress
but I have to confess,
I was quite proud
of my aging prowess.
Best you also know this
lest you think me remiss,
I was a Civil Servant
in the Chancellors office).
So began my affair
with Sadie (Solitaire)
a liaison, so au contraire.
Fast forward of July
as erotic weeks went by
to when I was arrested,
let me tell you for why.

I’d often work late
on matters of state
brought papers home
too important to wait.
It was after Sadie left
I discovered the theft,
knowing it was Sadie
left me feeling bereft.
I had no choice at all
but to make the call,
telephoned the number
of a man in Whitehall.
Two ‘Spooky’ men came
didn’t give me a name
played the good cop
and the bad cop game.
They escorted me away
didn’t see much of day
just a light bulb
in a room painted grey.
The questioning began
first off man to man,
then it turned nasty
like interrogations can.
They implied me complicit
in shenanigans illicit,
called me a traitor
in words most explicit.
I had often been seen
with Philby, Maclean
knew the infamous five,
Profumo and Christine.
They showed me a photo
of a Katerina Komachenko,
code named “Solitaire”
for a reason I know.

Solitaire was Sadie
my voluptuous lady,
a spy for the KGB.
An agent provocateur
who seduces to procure
any government secrets
with her seductive allure.
I said time after time
I was innocent of crime
as the night played out,
in a bizarre pantomime.
Truth finally did prevail
I was released from jail
but it wasn’t the end
of this sad sordid tale.
It’s hard to explain
the excruciating pain,
when innuendoes stick
like an indelible stain.
By colleagues of mine
or by political design
my indiscretion leaked,
I was forced to resign.
I came a public disgrace
tabloids showed my face,
I had to move away
to a remote little place.
So gentlemen beware
of doorways out there,
and the femme fatale
with the red pixie hair.
Spooks call her Solitaire
seductress extraordinaire
that shady lady Sadie
with the cute, derriere.
You’ll know my tale true,
when Sadie seduces you,
and you fondle a breast,
with a diamond tattoo.

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