3 AM EROTICA

PULP

3 am Erotica

THIS ISSUE OF PULP CONTAINS NSFW TOPICS AND PHOTOS NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 18. VIEWER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

EDITORS NOTE

FOR THE FREAKS THAT COME OUT AT NIGHT - FINNIALLA

TABLE OF CONTENTS LIFE, SAVORED - EMILY ANNE ELLIOTT ATHEIST, RATHER, BEGONIAS, UNLOCK, ICE CREAM CONE - DEVON NEAL VIEWER DISCRETION - KELLI DIANNE RULE FRUIT, MOVEMENT 9 - JASMINE YOUNG PENS, TORN, LOVE - DANI SHOEMAKER SWEETENER, VAMPIRE, MASOCH’S PYRE, WHISKEY NEAT - VAN RUNG POEM FOR DADDY, ASTRAL, LEAVE A MARK, THE SADIST OF MY DREAMS DEVON WEBB COMESTIBILITY - TAYLOR KOVACH DARKNESS IS A MOTHER - MK KOUL IF HEAVEN WAS REAL, AFTERGLOW, SUMMER LOVER - NATHAN CORRAL LUV DUB, 3AM IN CAPE TOWN, EYELINE, ENJOY THE HOUR - LIAM JOSEPH MICK GALATEA - CELSO ANTONIO DE ALMEIDA RANCID - LAURA SHELL ANTIQUARY - WEST AMBROSE ACID DROP - SAMANTHA BARROW OLD DEVIL MOON - FRANKLYN S. NEWTON CAMERA EYE - M.D. BAKER GAME ON - NATE BODHI THE MYTH OF A LONELY MAN - TOM STUCKEY MOONLIGHTING - CASTLE IF ONLY YOU - MARY MAGAGNA THE GEOGRAPHY OF DESIRE - MARCO ETHERIDGE YELLOW - MATIAS TRAVIESO-DIAZ GREASEPAINT CASANOVA - KARL KOWESKI REFLECT - STACEY HARRIS ELF - GEMMA MOONEY

BEGIN WITH THE ANTICIPATION OF TENDERNESS, JUST WAITING WITH ARMS AKIMBO, CURIOUS AS THE WHISPER'S MIRROR, ANOTHER RESTLESS GOODBYE, THAT LINGERING ATTRACTION - BILL WOLAK “JIGSAW” - DIMITRI FERRAZ

CONTRIBUTOR BIOS

EMILY ANNE ELLIOTT (SHE/HER) IS A WRITER AND MORE FREQUENTLY A READER. HER WORK HAS BEEN FEATURED IN LITMORA, TABI'S FLASH TUESDAYS, AND COSMIC DAFFODIL. DEVON NEAL (HE/HIM) IS A KENTUCKY-BASED POET WHOSE WORK HAS APPEARED IN MANY PUBLICATIONS, INCLUDING HAD, STANCHION, STONE CIRCLE REVIEW, LIVINA PRESS, AND THE STORMS, AND HAS BEEN NOMINATED FOR BEST OF THE NET. HE CURRENTLY LIVES IN BARDSTOWN, KY WITH HIS WIFE AND THREE CHILDREN. KELLI DIANNE RULE'S (SHE/HER) WRITING IS INSPIRED BY A LIFETIME SPENT IN THE RURAL NORTH AMERICAN SOUTH, AND FEATURES THEMES SUCH AS GENERATIONAL TRAUMA, GENTRIFICATION, DESTRUCTION (I.E. RUSTED CARS AND HURRICANES), AND CONNECTION TO PLACE. RULE IS PRIMARILY A VISUAL ARTIST AND GRADUATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF SOUTH FLORIDA (BA, ART HISTORY.) SHE LIVES IN FLORIDA AND MEXICO. JASMINE YOUNG (SHE/HER) IS A POET AND CREATIVE WRITER FROM THE GREEN MOUNTAINS OF VERMONT. SHE’S APPEARED IN VARIOUS SMALL PUBLICATIONS. SHE CAN BE FOUND SCREAM-SINGING IN THE CAR, LURKING IN THE NIGHT, OR JUST ONLINE. DANI (SHE/HER) WRITES STUFF AND SHE IS SORRY YOU READ IT. IF YOU WANT TO SEE MORE LOOK AT @DANI_THE_AUTHOR ON TWITTER. YOUR LOSS. VAN RUNG (SHE/HER) IS A WRITER, POET, AND ENIGMA BASED IN THE CHICAGO-MILWAUKEE AREA. SHE HOLDS A DEGREE IN HISTORY FROM THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS AT URBANA CHAMPAIGN. DEVON WEBB (SHE/HER) IS A WRITER & EDITOR BASED IN AOTEAROA NEW ZEALAND. HER AWARD-WINNING WORK HAS BEEN PUBLISHED EXTENSIVELY WORLDWIDE & REVOLVES AROUND THEMES OF FEMININITY, VULNERABILITY, ANTI-CAPITALISM & NEURODIVERGENCE. SHE IS A STAFF WRITER FOR ERATO MAGAZINE & PULP LIT MAG, AN EDITOR FOR PRISMATICA PRESS, & A FOUNDING MEMBER OF THE CIRCUS (@CIRCUSLIT), A COLLECTIVE PRIORITISING RADICAL INCLUSIVITY WITHIN THE INDIE LIT SCENE. SHE CAN BE FOUND ON SOCIAL MEDIA AT @DEVONWEBBNZ. TAYLOR KOVACH (THEY/THEM) IS A POET WHO LIVES IN LINCOLN PARK, MICHIGAN. THEY HOLD A BACHELOR’S DEGREE IN PSYCHOLOGY, WITH HIGHEST HONORS, FROM MICHIGAN STATE UNIVERSITY. THIS FOSTERS THEIR DIVE DEEP INTO FAMILIAL AND SOCIETAL ADVERSITY. CONCENTRATIONS IN CREATIVE WRITING, SOCIOLOGY, AND SOCIAL WORK ASSIST TO FURTHER THIS VENTURE. SELF-TAUGHT IN THE MEDIUM OF THE POETIC ARTS THAT SPANS MORE THAN A DECADE. THE ARTIST KEEPS THEIR WORK FAR FROM CLOSE TO THE CHEST. MK KUOL (HE/HIM) IS A SEVERALLY ANTHOLOGIZED, MULTI-AWARD WINNING POET WITH A PLETHORA OF PUBLISHED/FORTHCOMING CHAPBOOKS TO HIS NAME. HE LOVES DARK ROOMS, COFFEE AND CONSPIRACIES.

NATHAN CORRAL (HE/HIM) IS A QUEER CHICANO WRITER BASED IN LOS ANGELES. WHEN HE IS NOT WRITING ABOUT ALL THE BOYS WHO HAVE BROKE HIS HEART HE IS LEARNING TO HOW TO DJ FROM TWO BADASS WOMEN. MY NAME IS LIAM JOSEPH MICK, I AM AN ACTOR, WRITER, POET AND FILMMAKER FROM CAPE TOWN SOUTH AFRICA. I AM A MEMBER OF THE ROOTS AND LOVE COLLECTIVE ALONGSIDE SIYA AND MARU. HIS PRONOUNS ARE HE/HIM. CELSO ANTONIO DE ALMEIDA (HE/HIM) IS A JOURNALIST, ENGLISH TEACHER AND LITERARY TRANSLATOR FOR FAME AND MONEY. HE IS 20 YEARS OLD, WITH 30 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE. CELSO LIVES IN THE SMALL TOWN OF GUAREÍ, IN THE INTERIOR OF THE STATE OF SÃO PAULO (BRAZIL), WITH HIS WIFE TATIANA, CHILDREN BEATRICE AND DAVI AND DOGS TECA AND NINA. HE WAS PUBLISHED IN THE INAUGURAL ISSUE OF PULP. LAURA SHELL (SHE/HER) QUIT HER DAY JOB IN AUGUST OF 2023 TO BECOME A FULL-TIME WRITER. SHE HAS BEEN PUBLISHED IN CITRON REVIEW, WINK, AND MANY OTHERS. HER FIRST ANTHOLOGY OF PARANORMAL STORIES TITLED THE CANINE COLLECTION WAS JUST RELEASED. IF SHE ISN'T WRITING OR READING OR SUBMITTING WEIRD FICTION, SHE'S SLINGING SNARKY JABS AT HER HUSBAND OF 35 YEARS. YOU CAN FIND OUT MORE ABOUT HER AT HTTPS://LAURASHELLHORROR.WORDPRESS.COM. WEST AMBROSE (HE/HIM) IS A SCRIVENER AND PERFORMING ARTIST. CHECK OUT HIS EVER QUEER WORKS AT WESTOFCANON.COM. IF YOU WANT ANYTHING PUBLISHED IN THE HLK QUARTERLY OR THE CROW’S NEST, JUST RING FOR THE MASTHEAD, AND LET THEM KNOW. SAMANTHA BARROW (SHE/HER) WRITES CHARACTERS THAT MAKE YOU FEEL AND PLOTS THAT MAKE YOU THINK. HER CONTEMPORARY ROMANCES ARE FULL OF FIRST TIMES, SECOND CHANCES, THIRD DATES AND HAPPILY-EVER-AFTERS. WHEN SHE'S NOT COMPLETELY IMMERSED IN THE WORLDS OF HER IMAGINATION , SHE LIVES IN GEORGIA WITH HER CATAHOULA LEOPARD, HER HIMALAYAN CAT, AND HER GOLDEN RETRIEVER FIANCÉ. SAMANTHA IS CURRENTLY PURSUING HER MFA IN CREATIVE WRITING FROM SOUTHERN NEW HAMPSHIRE UNIVERSITY AND IS KNEE-DEEP IN WRITING HER FIRST NOVEL. FRANKLYN S. NEWTON (THEY/SHE) IS BASED IN THE SOUTH OF ENGLAND AND HAS BEEN WRITING ON AND OFF SINCE THEIR TEENS, LARGELY INSPIRED BY THE SCI-FI & HORROR MOVIES THAT WORMED INTO THEIR BRAIN WHEN THEY LEFT THE TV ON AT NIGHT. THEIR WRITING FOCUSES ON TRANSHUMANISM, THE STRUGGLE FOR BODILY AUTONOMY AND FINDING LOVE IN A HOSTILE WORLD. PREVIOUS WORKS INCLUDE THE SHORT STORIES “LIVING INK” AND “WOLFSBANE,” AND THEIR DEBUT NOVEL, “SYNTHETIC SEA”.

M.D. BAKER (HE/HIM) IS AN ASPIRING WRITER AND IT TECH RESIDING SOMEWHERE IN NEW YORK. HE LIVES WITH HIS PARTNER AND A DOG NAMED TOAST. HIS WORK HASN'T APPEARED ANYWHERE.

NATE BODHI LIVES NEAR TORONTO WITH SEVERAL ANIMALS. SOME OF THEM EVEN HUMAN. WRITER. FOODIE. WEIRDO. TOM (HE/HIM) WRITES STORIES AND POEMS AND LIVES IN THE UK. CASTLE (SHE/HER) IS JUST A GIRL THAT LOVES DARK AND SAD THINGS TO HAPPEN TO CHARACTERS XX MAGAGNA (SHE/HER) IS NEW TO FICTION, OLD TO POETRY. HER CURRENT PRACTICE IS FLASH FICTION, WHICH SHE THINKS COMBINES POETRY AND FICTION. SHE'S BEEN PUBLISHED IF, BY THAT, READERS CAN TELL SHE'S SERIOUS ABOUT WRITING. HER TOPICS FOCUS MOSTLY WITH DIMINISHED RESPONSES TO POWER BY OVERWHELMED CHARACTERS. MARCO ETHERIDGE (HE/HIM) IS A WRITER OF PROSE, AN OCCASIONAL PLAYWRIGHT, AND A PART-TIME POET. HE LIVES AND WRITES IN VIENNA, AUSTRIA. HIS WORK HAS BEEN FEATURED IN OVER ONE HUNDRED REVIEWS AND JOURNALS ACROSS CANADA, AUSTRALIA, THE UK, AND THE USA. HIS STORY “POWER TOOLS” HAS BEEN NOMINATED FOR BEST OF THE WEB FOR 2023. “THE WRONG NAME” IS MARCO’S LATEST COLLECTION OF SHORT FICTION. WHEN HE ISN’T CRAFTING STORIES, MARCO IS A CONTRIBUTING EDITOR FOR A NEW ‘ZINE CALLED HOTCH POTCH. IN HIS OTHER LIFE, MARCO TRAVELS THE WORLD WITH HIS LOVELY WIFE SABINE. WEBSITE: HTTPS://WWW.MARCOETHERIDGEFICTION.COM/ KARL KOWESKI (HE/HIM) HIDES IN RURAL ALABAMA. HIS LATEST COLLECTION, ABANDONED

BY ALL THINGS, PUBLISHED BY ROADSIDE PRESS IS NOW AVAILABLE. BORN IN CUBA, MATIAS TRAVIESO-DIAZ (HE/HIM) MIGRATED TO THE UNITED STATES AS A YOUNG MAN. HE BECAME AN ENGINEER AND LAWYER AND PRACTICED FOR NEARLY FIFTY YEARS. AFTER RETIREMENT, HE TOOK UP CREATIVE WRITING. OVER ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY OF HIS SHORT STORIES HAVE BEEN PUBLISHED OR ACCEPTED FOR PUBLICATION IN A WIDE RANGE OF ANTHOLOGIES AND MAGAZINES, BLOGS, AUDIO BOOKS AND PODCASTS. A FIRST COLLECTION OF HIS STORIES, “THE SATCHEL AND OTHER TERRORS” IS AVAILABLE ON AMAZON AND OTHER BOOK OUTLETS; ADDITIONAL ANTHOLOGIES OF HIS WORK ARE SCHEDULED FOR PUBLICATION IN 2025.

STACEY HARRIS (SHE/HER) CAN’T DECIDE WHETHER SHE’S A CHICAGOAN OR A NEW ORLEANIAN. SHE’S A MOTHER, A WIFE, A POTTY MOUTH, A HORSE GIRL, A COPYWRITER, AND A SERVICE INDUSTRY SWISS ARMY KNIFE. SHE’S BEEN PUBLISHED IN THREAD LITMAG, REVERIE MAGAZINE, AND APOCALYPSE CONFIDENTIAL. GEMMA MOONEY (SHE/HER) IS REDISCOVERING HER SENSE OF SELF AFTER DISCOVERING SHE WAS ONE OF THOSE 23 & ME STORIES DURING THE PANDEMIC. HER STORIES ARE ALL ABOUT HER EVIL CHOICES IN LIFE BEFORE SHE KNEW SHE HAD “DADDY ISSUES.”

BILL WOLAK (HE/HIS) IS A POET, COLLAGE ARTIST, AND PHOTOGRAPHER WHO HAS JUST PUBLISHED HIS EIGHTEENTH BOOK OF POETRY ENTITLED ALL THE WIND’S UNFINISHED KISSES WITH EKSTASIS EDITIONS. HIS COLLAGES AND PHOTOGRAPHS HAVE APPEARED RECENTLY IN THE 2024 DIRTY SHOW IN DETROIT, THE 2024 ROCHESTER EROTIC ARTS FESTIVAL, THE 2020 INTERNATIONAL FESTIVAL OF EROTIC ARTS (CHILE), THE 2020 SEATTLE EROTIC ART FESTIVAL, THE 2018 MONTREAL EROTIC ART FESTIVAL, AND NAKED IN NEW HOPE 2018. HE WAS A FEATURED ARTIST IN THE BOOK BEST OF EROTIC ART (LONDON, 2022) DIMITRI (HE/HIM) IS A BRAZIL BASED LOVER OF OLD THINGS, MUSIC, AND TRANSGRESSIVE LITERATURE/HORROR.

PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED DEVON NEAL’S "ATHEIST", "UNLOCK", AND "BEGONIAS" WAS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN NAKED CAT LIT MAG. SAMANTHA BARROW’S “ACID DROP” WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN THE PINK HYDRA MAGAZINE. DEVON WEBB’S “LEAVE A MARK” & “THE SADIST OF MY DREAMS” WERE BOTH PUBLISHED IN ISSUE 2 OF NAKED CAT LIT MAG. LAURA SHELL’S “RANCID” WAS FIRST PUBLISHED IN PAWSITIVELY CREEPY MAGAZINE. TOM STUCKEY’S “THE MYTH OF A LONELY MAN” WAS PREVIOUSLY PUBLISHED IN NUT HOLE PUBLISHING

LIFE, SAVORED EMILY ANNE ELLIOTT

TW: SUICIDE, DEPRESSION, DUBIOUS CONSENT (TECHNICALLY)

THE VAMPIRE I HIRED TO ORCHESTRATE MY DEMISE CHOSE INSTEAD TO BURY THEIR FANGS BETWEEN MY THIGHS. HELPLESS---I STAND, THEIR RAZOR-SHARP NAILS CLUTCHING THE TENDER FLESH BENEATH MY ASS, KEEPING MY BACK AGAINST THE WALL AND MY KNEES TREMBLING. GREEDILY---THEY DRINK, COAXING MY SINS FROM MY CUNT WITH EVERY NIP AND SUCKLE. WERE THESE TO BE MY LAST RITES, DELIVERED BY THE TONGUE OF A CREATURE OF THE NIGHT? EVERY DARK SECRET I INTEND TO TAKE TO MY PREMATURE GRAVE, MY ONE-WAY TICKETS TO THE CLEANSING FIRES OF HELL, STILL AWAITING ME DOWN IN THEIR SULFURIC UNDERWORLD, BUZZ BEHIND MY TEETH IN A FERVOR AS MY HIPS WRITHE OVER THEIR EAGER MOUTH. THE DESIRE TO UNBURDEN MYSELF FULLY BEFORE THE SCATHING MOONLIGHT RACES THROUGH MY VEINS AS MY GUILT, THICK AND HOT, DRIPS BETWEEN THE VAMPIRE’S VIBRATING LIPS. A---HARD---BITE ON MY CLIT DRAWS NOT MY BLOOD BUT MY WEEPING APOLOGIES, SCREAMED LOUD ENOUGH TO WAKE THE GHOSTS OF MY VICTIMS IN THEIR MISERABLE GRAVES. TO THE MOTHER BARELY KNOWN IN DAYS NOT RULED BY EXHAUSTION, LIFE TAKEN BY HER OWN HAND SHOVING A MOUNTAIN OF PILLS DOWN HER THROAT, THE HASTILY SCRIBBLED ACCUSATION NEXT TO HER BED REEKING OF LIQUOR---

“I’M SORRY I WASN’T THE DAUGHTER YOU NEEDED!” TO THE FATHER WHO COULDN’T HELP HIS ANGER, FELLED BY A HEART ATTACK IN THE MIDST OF FIGHTING A LOSING BATTLE AGAINST MY ARROGANCE-“I’M SORRY I WASN’T THE DAUGHTER YOU WANTED!” TO THE TEACHERS WHO TRIED AND FAILED TO OVERCOME MY MANY DEFICIENCIES, WHICH WHITTLED DOWN THEIR PATIENCE TO THE POINT OF INCOHERENT RAGE, POPPED VEINS, AND FORCED RETIREMENT-“I’M SORRY I WASN’T THE STUDENT YOU SOUGHT!” TO THE VARIOUS FRIENDS WHO HAVE COME AND GONE, EVENTUALLY REPELLED AND REPULSED

BY MY INABILITY TO APPRECIATE HELPFUL ADVICE, MAINTAIN REGULAR SOCIAL CONTACT-“I’M SORRY I WASN’T THERE FOR YOU!” TO ALL THE STRANGERS, FORCED BYSTANDERS TO MY AWKWARD AND OFTEN HARMFUL ATTEMPTS AT NORMALCY WHICH DARED TO DISRUPT THEIR LIVES— “I’M SORRY I COULDN’T BE NORMAL!” HEAT AND SHAME COME TO A BOILING POINT IN MY TWISTING BELLY.

“I --AM SO-SORRY!” THE HOVERING MOON RECEDES FROM MY WINDOW, AS THE VAMPIRE’S FORKED TONGUE RETRACTS FROM MY THROBBING CORE AND SAVORS THE STICKY LEFTOVERS OF MY DISCARDED SUICIDE NOTE. I FEEL EMPTY-BUT ALIVE.

ATHEIST DEVON NEAL

FOR AN ATHEIST, YOU NAME GOD OFTEN WITH MY HEAD BETWEEN YOUR THIGHS.

RATHER DEVON NEAL

IT’S A BRIGHT JUNE WEEKEND AND THERE ARE NEW MARIGOLDS LIKE ORANGE ORIGAMI GLOBES STRETCHING IN THE SHREDDED BLACK MULCH BY THE HOUSE. THE SKY IS MARKED WITH CLOUD SMEARS, AND THE CAT LIES CRESCENT-EYED UNDER THE SHADE OF THE PEAR TREE. BUT I WOULD RATHER COME INSIDE WHERE YOU ARE, SHOWER WATER RIVERING DOWN YOUR BODY, YOUR CHEST SLICKED WITH SOAP, YOUR HEAD TOSSED BACK, LIPS PARTING IN THE STEAM, INVITING ME IN.

BEGONIAS DEVON NEAL

IT WASN’T UNTIL LATE JUNE WHEN I REALIZED WHY THE RED BEGONIAS, TWITCHING WITH HARDBACKED LEAVES JUST OUTSIDE THE OFFICE BUILDING CAUGHT MY EYE: STRETCHING AS THEY WERE UP TO THE STEAMING SUMMER SUN, THEY REVEALED THEIR SMALL YELLOW PISTILS, SMALL AND ROUND AND TEXTURED JUST LIKE THE HARDENED GRAZE OF YOUR NIPPLES AGAINST MY FINGERTIPS, MY BREATHWARMED LIPS. ALL I CAN THINK, THEN, IS OF PEELING BACK YOUR MOISTENED PETALS, EXPOSING YOU TO THE WARMTH OF THE SUN.

UNLOCK DEVON NEAL

WHEN A KEY’S MOUNTAIN-RANGE EDGES SHUTTER INTO THE LOCK, THE PIN TUMBLERS LIFT INTO A TREETOP PATTERN, THE EXACT SHAPE TO CLEAR THE SHEAR LINE AND ALLOW THE CYLINDER TO TURN. IT’S THE PERFECT ARRANGEMENT, LIKE MORNINGS WHEN I GO TO WAKE HER, THE WINDOW LIGHT CLOUD-PALE, THE FLOOR FAN DRONING BY THE DOOR, AND AS I PLACE MY HAND GENTLY ON HER EXPOSED WAIST, HER SOFT FINGERS GRIP MY WRIST, AND SHE MOVES MY PALM HIGHER UP IN HER SHIRT AND SIGHS.

ICE CREAM CONE DEVON NEAL

ICE CREAM CONE IN YOUR WARM PALM, THE TEXTURED SCOOP ON YOUR TONGUE. WE FORGOT TO CLOSE THE BEDROOM WINDOW, THE SUMMER WIND IN YOUR HAIR AS I WATCH YOU LAP AT AN ICE CREAM CONE.

VIEWER DISCRETION KELLI DIANNE RULE

TW: DRUG USE, SEXUAL EXPLOITATION

DARK ANNIE. THE WORKING TITLE OF THE SPEC SCRIPT HE PITCHED. MOBY LOOKING PRICK GOT A FELLOWSHIP, SPENT A SUMMER IN THE CATSKILLS WRITING THIS SHIT. DEFIANT, DEFENSIVE: “IT’S SUPPOSED TO BE SICK. “POST-TARANTINO, REAL CUTTING EDGE THAT DIRTY-SOLED BLOODNUT AND TWO FRIENDS TO A BED BUGS IN THEIR BREAD FRENCH IN ITS BALDNESS! SWIFTIAN, HEARTLESS! “THE ADS AND THE TRAILER WILL SAY THAT IN RED.” SO SIGH, FUCK. BOY, HERE WE GO. WHAT’S SAME AND WHAT’S NEW IF YOU JUST GOTTA KNOW: MISS HANNIGAN STILL BATHES IN GIN; ALSO, SHE SHOOTS UP. FRIZZ CROTCH WITH SOUR ROT & YOU ONLY KNOW ‘CAUSE HER JOHN SAYS SO AS HE STIFFS HER & SLAPS DOWN A BUCK. AND YOU WOULDN’T BELIEVE BUT THE KIDS STILL SING. FUCKING BUKOWSKI GLEE, FORTY POOR THINGS GOING EASY STREET EASY STREET LED IN CHORUS BY ROOSTER, THAT SLICK PREENING COCK. THIN EPSTEIN STAND-IN SHUTTLING URCHINS TO DADDY WARBUCKS’ ISLAND ON THE GOOD SHIP LOLLIPOP.

NOW ALL EYES ON ANNIE, OUR HARD HEROINE. POST A SPITTING REFUSAL OF A WEINSTEINESQUE LOSER ENDS UP CHAINED UP, BUT PENULTIMATELY SHE ESCAPES HER FATE OF CHILD PROSTITUTION. FINALE: STAR WITNESS FOR THE PROSECUTION.

ROOSTER HANGS HIMSELF WITH THAT ONE BLOND’S PEARLS. SEASON TWO PREVIEW: THE COPS FIND SOME GIRLS BURIED ON PUBLIC LAND INSIDE A WARBUCKS OIL DRUM. “THIS IS SO FUCKING DUMB, WHO IN HELL IS GONNA WANT IT.” IN UNDER TWO MONTHS DISNEY+ WENT AND BOUGHT IT.

FRUIT JASMINE YOUNG

FRUIT SACCHARINE BODY, SLICED THROUGH DRIP DRIP DRIP TO THE CHECKED LINOLEUM LAPPING UP SECONDHAND DESIRE BITING THE HAND EPHEMERAL (THIS ONE FEEDS, SLAPS) THE FAUCET OF ME DRIP DRIP DRIP FAT SALT DROPS SMACK TO A HEAVING CHEST (SAP-STICKY, CLOYED) THAT FUCKING ITCH

MOVEMENT 9 JASMINE YOUNG

I HAVE BEEN SPREAD LIKE A BOOK, MY SPINE CRACKED SO THE ANGLE IS JUST RIGHT, CURVED, BOW SHOOTING STRAIGHT TO GROUND. I FEEL THE ARROW PIERCE JUST BEHIND MY NAVEL. NO LONGER ALONE IN MY BODY, THROBBING HEAT AND DRUMBEAT PULSE. I FIND PURCHASE WITH TEETH, DIG MY FINGERTIPS UNDER THE SURFACE AND TUG. SOFT THERE, FLESH HUMS. THERE’S A VIOLENCE IN THIS. I THINK I’VE BEEN STARVING. HANDS GRASP AT AIR AS I’M TORN APART. I WILL EAT YOU UNTIL I AM FULL. I WILL OPEN UP. I WILL BECOME A MESS OF MYSELF. TREMBLING SILK-DRENCHED FINGERS PROBE. SPITSTREAM GLISTENS. TRY IT, TRY IT. CRY HEAVY INTO MY PALM. RENDING GASP, TEARSTREAKED THIGH, SHOCKWAVE STILL.

PENS DANI SHOEMAKER

TW: BAD RELATIONSHIP THINGS

I TREMBLE AND YOU LOVE IT AND IT ALMOST CROSSES MY MIND THAT YOU PROBABLY WOULDN’T LOVE ME IF I WASN’T SCREAMING YOUR NAME AND TALKING BACK TO YOU NOW BUT IT DOESN’T BECAUSE I LET MY MIND WANDER TO THE WORK I HAVE TO DO TOMORROW AND YOU THINK YOU ARE GOOD AT SEX BUT YOU’RE NOT BECAUSE I AM NOW DECIDING WHETHER TO BUY PENS AT THE DOLLAR TREE OR TARGET.

TORN DANI SHOEMAKER

TW: BAD RELATIONSHIP THINGS

O U R L O V E S A R E L I K E C H E M I C A L D E P E N D E N C E T E A R A P A R T M Y S O U L W I L L Y O U R P A I N T A K E A N E W F O R M S O T H A T I C A N B R E A T H E A G AI N

LOVE DANI SHOEMAKER

TW: BAD RELATIONSHIP THINGS

SCREAM IN PLEASURE OR PAIN I DON’T CARE ANYMORE HIT ME OR FUCK ME OR AT LEAST GIVE ME ATTENTION BOTH GIVE YOU SATISFACTION I JUST WANT LOVE MAYBE I’M BROKEN WHY CAN’T ILET IT ALL BE OKAY

SWEETENER VAN RUNG

TW: EATING DISORDERS

SUCRALOSE A THIN VENEER OF NORMALCY THAT THE SURFACE ACCEPTS AND THE BODY REJECTS A SACCHARINE LEAD-LINED BOX SWEET, UNSATIATING SERENITY FILL YOUR FACE, SLIM YOUR WAIST HUNGER IS A CONSTANT COMPANION AN ECHO OF WHOLENESS ASPARTAME WHY BE HEALTHY WHEN YOU CAN BE SEXY? DIET FUCK ME HEADRUSH AND CIGARETTES SAMPLING A NEW WAY TO SIZE YOU UP BLOOD AND BILE AND BEST LAID PLANS FRESH, RAW WOUNDS... NOW WITH LIME! NO, REALLY, I’M FINE. STEVIA COCAINE AND CARDIO ACHIEVING A NEW LOW ALL-NATURAL NEUROSIS NEVER NEEDING ANYTHING FROM ANYONE COLLOQUIALLY COMATOSE SWEET SENSATION OF AVERAGE ABANDONING ABSTRACTS

VAMPIRE VAN RUNG

TW: BODY/ MEDICAL HORROR

YOUR WORDS CARESS THE STRIATIONS OF MY BRAIN EARS BURNING, SCALP TINGLING CLIMAXING ON THE SWEET SORROW OF ANORGASMIA YOUR QUESTIONS PEELING BACK THE LOBES VERBAL FINGERS PROBING DEPTHS UNKNOWN DUSTY, DINGEY SECRETS KEPT FROM THE LIGHT OF DAY SPOKEN CONFESSIONS RANGING FROM REHEARSED TO PLEADING THE HORSESHOE OF MISERY AND JOY REACHING ITS APEX THE ENCOUNTER BEARS THE SURGICAL PRECISION OF A BLACK MARKET ORGAN TRANSPLANT TOO SOON TO SAY IF IT WILL KEEP LEAVING THE BASEMENT BLOODY AND BANDAGED REBORN IN A BACK DOOR NATIVITY WE ALL END AND BEGIN WITH ZERO THE REST IS MERELY DECADENCE

MASOCH’S PYRE VAN RUNG

TW: ABUSE

THE QUESTION REMAINS: DO I KILL HER OR WORSHIP HER? THIS PART OF ME THAT CANNOT STAND ON HER OWNTHAT SEEKS TO BE CONDITIONED AND CONTROLLEDTHE CULT FOLLOWER, SWEET SUBMISSIVEIS THERE ENOUGH ROPE IN THE WORLD TO TAME HER? A DOCTRINE GRANDIOSE ENOUGH TO SOOTHE HER? WHO IS WAITING AROUND THE CORNER TO CLASP HER HAND? IS IT SAFER JUST TO BURN HER AT THE PYRE? CAN SHE BE DEFEATED OR WILL SHE RISE; A PHOENIX FROM THE ASH OF A CHILDHOOD PASSED BY? IS THIS TRANSFORMATION A NEW SOUL OR A NEW DRUG? IS SHE JUSTIFIED OR CHASING SOMETHING THAT SHE’LL NEVER HAVE? IS IT EVEN SOMETHING THAT SHE REALLY WANTS? CAN SHE EVER REST, EVEN WHEN SHE’S WON? CAN I LET HER INHABIT MY BODY LIKE A TIMESHARE? OR WILL SHE ASK FOR MORE THAN WE DESIRETAKING MY WHOLE LIFE WITH HER IN THE END

WHISKEY NEAT VAN RUNG

TW: SUICIDE/ ALCOHOL ABUSE

WHEN I DRINK, THE WORLD BECOMES A LITTLE DARKER. BUT SOMETIMES I LIKE IT THAT WAY. I SOLD MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL SO THAT I MAY LIVE TO SEE THE COMPLETION AND SUCCESS OF MY NOVEL, NO MATTER HOW LONG IT TAKES. THUS I HAVE ENSURED MY IMMORTALITY. IN SOME SEEDY BASEMENT BAR OVER WHISKEY NEAT, DIDI ASKS ME WHY I COULD POSSIBLY WANT TO LIVE FOREVER. “ISN’T THAT A LITTLE BLEAK?” I ASK HER IF SHE REALIZES HOW MUCH THERE IS TO BE DONE. HOW ONE CAN LIVE ONE HUNDRED LIVES AND BARELY SCRATCH THE SURFACE. SHE ASKS ME IF THAT DOESN’T SOUND UTTERLY EXHAUSTING. IF I WAS HUGGED ENOUGH AS A CHILD. I KNOW IN MY LOGICAL BRAIN THAT I CAN SIMPLY STOP WRITING AND IN DOING SO HAVE EVERY OTHER THING I HAVE EVER WANTED IN LIFE. NEVERTHELESS, MY HEART OR LIZARD BRAIN CHIPS AWAY AT IT YEAR BY YEAR, PAGE BY PAGE. THE WORLD GETS A LITTLE DARKER. AT THE CENTER, THE HALO OF LIGHT THAT IS MY LOVE FOR DIDI SHIFTS INTO FOCUS, SHAPING MY SURROUNDINGS INTO SOMETHING LIKE A VARÓ PAINTING. I BALANCE MY BOOK WITH EVERYTHING ELSE. I BECOME WEALTHY AND FIT AND SUCCESSFUL AND IN LOVE. I HAVE EVERYTHING I COULD EVER WANT. EXCEPT ONE THING. “YOU WRITE SO THAT EVENTUALLY YOU CAN BE FREE,” SAYS AN AGING DIDI. “I KNEW YOU DIDN’T REALLY WANT TO LIVE FOREVER.” I FINISH MY THIRD PHD AND BECOME AN EXPERT IN MY TENTH LANGUAGE. I HAVE BEEN TO EVERY COUNTRY ON THE PLANET, EVEN ONES THAT DID NOT EXIST WHEN I WAS BORN.

I HAVE SEEN MYSELF BECOME A CRIME AND THEN BECOME FREE A DOZEN TIMES OVER IN SO MANY DIFFERENT WAYS. I HAVE BEEN ABLE TO BE A PART OF THE FIGHT. I HAVE DONE MORE THAN I HAD EVER THOUGHT POSSIBLE, EVEN GIVEN THE CIRCUMSTANCES. AND YET THE BOOK GETS FATTER. DIDI IS DIAGNOSED WITH CANCER. IT IS LATE-STAGE, SOMETHING NOT YET TREATABLE. I SIT UP ALL NIGHT IN HER HOSPITAL ROOM RACING TO FINISH MY MANUSCRIPT. RACING AGAINST THE PAINFUL, AGGRESSIVE THING THAT CONSUMES HER. HER MOANS AND SOBS REACH THEIR APEX AS MY NOVEL REACHES ITS FINALE. AS I HOLD HER HAND, I WRITE THE LAST WORDS. DIDI DIES, STILL I LIVE. MY WORK IS NOT FINISHED. A PUBLISHING CONTRACT ARRIVES IN THE MAIL WITHOUT MY QUERY. I SIGN IT WITHOUT READING. I AM TAKEN AROUND THE WORLD TO BE INTERVIEWED ABOUT MY GENIUS AND MEET MY ADORING FANS. THE WORLD GETS DARKER STILL. THE PUBLISHING COMPANY ASKS FOR A SEQUEL. THE DEVIL TELLS ME I CAN WRITE IT AND PROLONG MY BARGAIN. I TRY TO WRITE BUT MY HANDS ARE OLD AND SHAKY. THE WORLD IS SO DARK I CAN HARDLY SEE. AT LONG LAST, I CHASE A HANDFUL OF PILLS WITH A BOTTLE OF BOURBON AND THE WORLD SHOWS ME ITS DARKEST SHADE YET. IN THE VOID I HEAR THE CALL AND I AM FINALLY AT PEACE.

POEM FOR DADDY DEVON WEBB

TW: SADOMASOCHISM, TOXICITY

I WATCHED A MOVIE THAT MADE ME THINK OF YOU IT WAS ABOUT A YOUNG NAÏVE WOMAN WHO DEVELOPS A SADOMASOCHISTIC ATTACHMENT TO HER EMPLOYER NOT THAT THIS HAS EVER HAPPENED TO ME HE WOULD CRITIQUE HER FOR THE SMALLEST MISTAKES & DISMISS HER WITH THIS SORT OF COLD, APATHETIC GAZE & GOD IT MADE ME ACHE FOR HOW I LOVED TO HATE YOU WHEN YOU LOOKED AT ME THAT WAY HOW YOU DIDN’T SEEM TO CARE WHEN REALLY UNDER ALL THAT ALMOST MIDDLE-AGED NONCHALANCE WAS THE BITTER BURNING STARE OF A LONELY BOY WHO HATED TO FEAR ME SO HAD TO EXERT SOME KIND OF POWER TO REBALANCE THOSE DYNAMICS ME LOOKING AT YOU LOOKING AT ME THE TWO OF US SUSPENDED IN THE UNSPOKEN DISCOMFORT OF NOT KNOWING WHAT TO DO WITH ALL THIS CHEMISTRY TOO TABOO FOR YOU I THINK OF YOU NOW AFTER ALL THESE YEARS OF RESENTMENT REGURGITATED & TWISTED WITH YEARNING I REALISE NOW HOW THIS WAS THE KIND OF FILTHY THAT HAD FESTERED INTO GOLD MAYBE WE ARE MORE TO EACH OTHER THAN JUST LUSTFUL HATRED MAYBE YOU ENVY ME FOR BEING YOUNG & WILD & FREE MAYBE YOU SEETHE WITH A KIND OF QUIET POSSIBILITY MAYBE WE NEED MORE HUMANITY THAN JUST A FIXATION ON THE PSYCHO-PHYSIOLOGICAL ASPECTS OF WHATEVER IT IS THAT MAKES US BURN THIS WAY MAYBE I NEED TO CURL UP WITH YOU IN YOUR BEDROOM WITH YOUR CAT BETWEEN US & YOUR STAR WARS PARAPHERNALIA GAZING DOWN AT US FROM THE WALLS (THIS IS A GUESS BUT I BET YOU’VE GOT STAR WARS PARAPHERNALIA)

THIS IS ONE SIDE OF THE COIN THE SOFT PART OF OUR DUALITY THE SECOND WILL BE WHEN I SWITCH TO A SMALL SUBMISSIVE THING & YOU’LL HAVE ME ON MY KNEES THE POINT IS, WE CAN HAVE BOTH WE CAN HAVE EVERYTHING WE CAN KEEP THE WHEEL SPINNING SO THE SADISM & THE MASOCHISM BECOME BLURRED & ONE & WHOLE & PERFECT TILL I DON’T KNOW WHERE MY SUBMISSION TO YOU ENDS & DOMINATION OF YOU BEGINS EITHER WAY, WE WON’T BE ALONE & NO SECRET PART OF OUR SELVES WILL LINGER ON UNSEEN, UNTOUCHED, UNKNOWN.

ASTRAL DEVON WEBB

WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I TOLD YOU I HAD ASTRAL-PROJECTION SEX WITH YOU LIKE WHEN YOU IMAGINE SOMEONE’S AURA & LAYER YOUR OWN UNDERNEATH IT & SUDDENLY YOU JUST FEEL THEM, HA MAYBE IT WAS THAT APHRODISIAC OF A TUNE OR MAYBE YOU FEEL ME TOO MAYBE YOU’RE REALLY THERE IN WHICHEVER REALM WE MEET WHERE EVERYTHING’S JUST COLOUR & NOTHING ELSE TO OVERTHINK WHAT IF ALL THE STARS EXPLODE WHEN WE FINALLY REALLY TOUCH EACH OTHER WHAT IF REALITY CAN’T TAKE IT WHAT IF WE SINK INTO OUR OVERLAP & STAY THERE & NEVER STOP SPARKLING WHAT IF THE DREAMS ARE SO MUCH MORE VIVID THAN WE THINK?

LEAVE A MARK DEVON WEBB

TW: SADOMASOCHISM

THE BLOOD OF MY LEFT BUTTCHEEK IS SPLAYED OUT UNDER THE SURFACE OF THE SKIN LIKE A RORSCHACH TEST IN WHICH I PERCEIVE YOUR HAND I REMEMBER THE STING THE MOMENT OF ANTICIPATION BEFORE THE BLOW HITS THE THRILL OF REAL PAIN I AM LOST IN THE ECSTASY, LOOP-MEMORY OF YOUR HAND AROUND MY NECK, MY NIPPLE BETWEEN YOUR TEETH THIS SUDDEN UNEXPECTED RUSH OF SADISM COS YOU WOULD ONLY HURT ME ONCE YOU KNOW I LIKE IT & IT GOES BOTH WAYS SO LET’S FUCK EACH OTHER UP I’LL PAINT YOUR SKIN IN PURPLE-BLUE I’LL SINK MY TEETH IN IF YOU WANT ME TO I GIVE AWAY MY POWER BUT I’VE STILL GOT POWER OVER YOU & WE’LL GIFT EACH OTHER BOUQUETS OF BRUISES ACROSS OUR COLLARBONES KISSES MADE TO LAST LIKE, DID WE EVEN TOUCH EACH OTHER IF WE DIDN’T LEAVE A MARK? YOU’RE GONE NOW & I LINGER IN THE AFTERGLOW MY BUTTCHEEK NOT THE ONLY THING THAT PULSES SLIGHTLY AT THE MEMORY MY SKIN NOT THE ONLY THING STILL SCREAMING FOR YOU IN THE GREAT BALLROOM OF MY FANTASIES OUR MASOCHISTIC DANCE CONTINUES ENDLESSLY I AM ON MY KNEES FOR YOU, I AM BENT OVER WITH MY HANDS BEHIND MY BACK & MY FACE IN THE SHEETS FOR YOU ME IN YOU IN ME IN DEEPLY

IN MY HEAD WE FUCK EVERYWHERE PRESSED UP AGAINST THE WALL IN THE SHOWER BUT THIS ISN’T BECAUSE OF THE LUST, JUST THE INTIMACY BECAUSE IT SEEMS INEVITABLE THAT THERE WILL BE A TIME WHEN YOU WILL SEE ME WITH SOAP SUDS RUNNING DOWN MY THIGHS BLINKING WATER FROM MY EYES OR I’LL HIT YOU UP WHEN THE NIGHT’S JUST ENDING & YOU’LL FIND ME IN THE FLICKER OF CANDLELIGHT JUST WAITING FOR YOU DRESSED IN RED & THE PANTIES I SAVE FOR SPECIAL OCCASIONS PUSSY ALREADY ON FIRE & I’LL READ YOU MY EROTICA & YOU WILL KNOW ONE MORE PLACE TO GO SEE IT’S ALL UNFOLDING LIKE THE PAGES OF THE MOST ROMANTIC KIND OF SMUT MY NAME IN INK ON YOUR SKIN YOUR PASSION IMPRINTED ON MY BUTTCHEEK PINK, PURPLE, GREEN & BLUE OH HOW I LOVE TO ACHE FOR YOU FINALLY THAT STING MY WHOLE BODY SINGING ALL THAT RED RISING TO THE SURFACE LIKE MY HEARTBEAT’S CALLING OUT TO YOU.

THE SADIST OF MY DREAMS DEVON WEBB

TW: MASOCHISM, PAIN, TOXICITY

ON THE THREE-MONTH ANNIVERSARY OF MY CRUSH ON YOU I PICK MY WEEPING PUSSY UP OFF THE FLOOR & HOLD IT IN MY HANDS WONDERING HOW I COULD’VE GONE THIS LONG WITHOUT YOU ANYWHERE NEAR IT I FEEL FUCKING DERANGED I AM SNIFFING MY BEDSHEETS FOR THE SCENT OF YOU LIKE AN ADDICT COUNTING THE BRUISES ON MY COLLARBONES LIKE TROPHIES, LIKE PERFECT WOUNDS YOU, BABE… YOU’RE THE SADIST OF MY DREAMS YOU’RE EVERYTHING I’VE EVER WANTED LAID UPON MY BODY YOU TICK MY KINKS OFF THE LIST WITHOUT ME SAYING A WORD & YOU DON’T HALF-ASS THAT SHIT EITHER MY NIPPLES STILL HURT & I SINCERELY COULDN’T BREATHE I AM NEVER GETTING UP OFF MY KNEES YOU COULD TREAT ME ABHORRENTLY & I WOULD LIVE FOR IT YOU COULD TELL ME TO DO THE MOST DEGRADING SHIT & I WOULD DO IT WITH GOD DAMN PLEASURE & BEG YOU TO MAKE ME DO MORE BABY I’M ANIMALISTIC I HATED THESE WORDS TILL LAST NIGHT BUT I’M YOUR SLUT & WHORE I DON’T KNOW IF MY PUSSY’S EVER GONNA STOP BEING THIS WET YOU’VE BEEN LIVING RENT-FREE IN MY HEAD & NOW I’M PAYING FOR IT & YOU FINGER THE CASH LIKE A FUCKING GIGOLO & SMILE I WANT YOU TO FUCK ME SO BAD I’M GOING TO CRY & I DON’T THINK YOU’RE INCLINED TO DISOBLIGE BUT BABY TAKE ME TO THE EDGE & PUSH ME OFF THE PEAK I’LL SCREAM THE WHOLE WAY DOWN

FOR NOW, FOR NOW I’LL DISSOCIATE IN THE SHOWER AS I RELUCTANTLY WASH YOU FROM MY BODY THE MEMORY OF YOU FALLING UPON ME LIKE RAIN THERE IS AS MUCH PAIN IN WAITING AS THERE IS IN THAT WHICH YOU INFLICT BUT YOU’LL BE BACK AGAIN CALLING ME LITTLE LIKE YOU’RE SO BIG BABY YOU’RE NOT KIDDING YOU’LL BE BACK AGAIN & I’LL BE UNDERNEATH YOU LIKE THE MOST WILLING VICTIM AT THE MERCY OF YOUR TAUNTING GRIN & READY FOR YOUR SADISM TO TAKE ME TO HELL & HIGH HEAVEN.

COMESTIBILITY TAYLOR KOVACH

CHOSEN THE ARMOR OF ESPOUSED CHERRY HUES ONCE MY WARDROBE’S CHASTE BELONGING ONLY TO DOTE UPON BEFALLEN SATIN CURTAINS NETHER OUR REFINED COLLECTION OF WITHDRAWN ATTIRE RAVISHINGLY SAVORING THE FRUITS OF YOUR LABOR CACOPHONY OF WELCOMED DIGITS OF DEXTERITY A CHORUS OF ALIGNED PALPITATIONS IN PROTRACTION MELLIFLUOUS INTERSTICE SECRETIONS MAKE WAY FOR DOWNPOUR PLEASUREFUL BELLOWS SHAKE HANDS WITH THEIR ZENITH WATER DROPLETS WASH AWAY TRISTFUL EVIDENCE IN ITS IMBIBED AFTERMATH

DARKNESS IS A MOTHER MK KUOL

TONIGHT LIKE ALWAYS, DARKNESS IS A MOTHER. & EVEN FOR A SQUALID SLOTH AS THIS, IT COMFORTS TO KNOW SHE ISN’T JUDGING. WE ARE WRAPPED IN EACH OTHER’S BREATH, OUR HEARTBEATS IN SYNC. I DIVE INTO MY BAPTISM IN THE HOLY WETNESS BETWIXT YOUR BLESSED THIGHS MY LIPS GLIDING OVER YOUR NIPPLES, RIPPLES OF PLEASURE ELOQUENT IN OUR BESEECHING EYES. A MOAN RAPTURES IN YOUR THROAT UNCAGING YOU FROM THE DARK DUNGEON OF SELF-RESTRAINT. FOR A MOMENT, ALL I KNOW OF ALL I KNOW IS THE CURATIVE WARMTH THAT GREETS EACH OF MY THRUSTS; FOR A MOMENT, ALL YOU KNOW OF ALL YOU KNOW IS THE BLISS LIGHTING THE UNEXPLORED DEPTHS OF YOUR SOUL. YOU ONCE SAID SEX WAS A PORTAL. & HERE WE ARE, LURING OURSELVES INTO EXISTENCE FROM BLEAK NOTHINGNESS WITH PRAYERS WE CAN’T BRING OURSELVES TO SAY (HOW DO YOU BEG SHADOWS TO CAST LIGHT?) YET IT IS STILL A MYSTERY HOW MY BED TURNS INTO A SHRINE OF GODS WHO ANSWER EVEN UNSAID PRAYERS EACH TIME WE RUB THIGHS. YOU UNCODE THE ENIGMA: SEX, DESPITE ALL SAID OF IT: IMMORALITY; SIN; WHATEVER ELSE, IS A SILENT PRAYER; AN UNMETHODICAL MEDITATION. WE SMILE; OUR WHOLE BEINGS, DRENCHED IN SWEAT & ECSTASY, ACHING FOR MORE. EVIDENTLY, THE TENSION THAT PRECEDENT THIS MOMENT —BIRTHED BY VARIANCE OVER THE BETTER BETWEEN ARIZONA & ALIJOMA—IS LOST IN THE LITTLE DELIGHTS & LITTLE ACHES. HA! IF SEX IS A SIN, IT IS A SIN THAT IS ITS OWN REDEMPTION, TOO.

IF HEAVEN WAS REAL NATHAN CORRAL

GETTING UNDRESSED, YOU HAVE ALL MY ATTENTION MY NECTAR DRIPS WHEN I FEEL YOUR AFFECTION WATCHING ME SLOWLY MOVE IN AND OUT OF YOU MAKING LOVE UNDER A SKY THAT'S NEVER NOT BLUE BLOOMING INTO YOU LIKE THE SPRING BLOOMS INTO JUNE RADIATING LOVE LIKE HEAT FROM A HOT SUMMER SUN LOVE OF MINE, DOING TIME IN A PRIVATE PARADISE EVERY MORNING YOUR FACE SHINES IN A GOLDEN SUNRISE PAIN AND PLEASURE PLAY TOGETHER IF HEAVEN WAS REAL, YOU’D STAY FOREVER

AFTERGLOW NATHAN CORRAL

THE SMILE THAT STAYS ON MY FACE AFTER YOU LEAVE A SIDE EFFECT OF YOU TEQUILA STRONG LIKE THE FEELINGS THAT LINGER ALL DAY LONG DESIRE BURNS LIKE THE TIP OF THE CIGARETTE BETWEEN MY FINGERS IF I COULD BORROW TIME FROM MY NEXT LIFE I’D ADD MORE HOURS TO MY DAY I’D GIVE THEM TO YOU BUT WHEN THE SUN GOES AWAY PART OF YOU STAYS

SUMMER LOVER NATHAN CORRAL

I DON’T UNDERSTAND THE REFERENCES YOU MAKE YOU DON’T MIND, SO YOU MAKE THEM ANYWAY TELL ME WHAT YOU WERE LIKE WHEN YOU WERE MY AGE WERE YOU SHY? WERE YOU CRAZY? WERE YOU COMPLETELY INSANE? YOU MET YOUR FIRST BOYFRIEND THE YEAR THAT I WAS BORN EARLY OCTOBER, TWO THOUSAND AND ONE

LUV DUB LIAM JOSEPH MICK

WHILE YOU’RE PULLING MY PALETTE WITH YOUR PULSE, I FEEL THE ARTICULATION OF YOUR TONGUE, IN THIS FRICTION, WE SPEAK DIALECTS THAT SPEAKER BOX OOH’S AND AHH’S, INTELLIGIBLE THIS LANGUAGE IS, ONLY TO THE TWO LYRICISTS THAT ARE SPEAKING IT, IT IS. NOTHING DONE HURRIEDLY BETWEEN LINGUISTS SPEAKING CUNNINGLY, ACTS OF AGGRESSION WITH INTENT, PACE INCREASING, MESSAGING THROUGH SUBTEXT. THE GLOW, THE SCENT OF YOUR COCOA BUTTER, BRINGING THIS MOTH TO THE FLAME, YOUR BODY BUGGING WHILE IT’S STUTTERING, I’M SPEAKING, THOUGH IT’S ONLY SEEN THROUGH THE FRICTION THAT YOUR LEGS ARE UTTERING, FROM THE LOVE BELOW BACK TO WHERE THE MUTTERING STOPPED, YOU CAN HEAR TWO HEARTBEATS IN SYNC (LUV DUB, LUV DUB), SLOWING, ACCELERATING, PACING, PANTING, A MOSAIC OF MOVEMENT PAINTING AN IMAGE OF INSTRUMENTS IMPROVISING, WHAT WAS EVIDENT WAS THAT THIS SOUND KEPT RISING. NOW THIS MELODY MADE BY MELANIN MEANT MUCH, IT’S A STORY THAT HAS STARTED SINCE THE DAWN OF BIPEDAL SKINS, ONE, WE ALL CIR - CUM - VENT, MUSCLE MEMORY, A RHYTHM LEARNT ONLY THROUGH ATTEMPT.

3AM IN CAPE TOWN LIAM JOSEPH MICK

AFTER SAYING GOODBYE LAST NIGHT I’M STRUGGLING TO SLEEP, THIS PILLOW DOESN’T MATCH THE THIN HAIRS OF YOUR LEGS PRICKLING AGAINST MY SKIN, THE WARMTH OF YOUR HEART BEATING THROUGH YOUR BREASTS, HOW YOURS SLOWED DOWN THE SLOWER WE KISSED, HOW YOU FELT MY BEARD, SHOWING ME WHAT I NEVER EXPERIENCED WITH HER, WHAT IT FELT LIKE, TO BE AT EASE. I CAN’T STOP, I CAN, NO, I DON’T WANT TO STOP THINKING OF THE WAY YOUR EYES MATCHED MY EYELINE, PEEPING THE WAY YOU WERE DIRECTING MY VISION, DIRECTLY DIRECTING THE SCENE. THE WAY YOUR FINGERTIP TOYED WITH THE TOP OF THE GLASS, YOUR FINGERTIPS MOVING FROM THE RIM TO THE HANDLE, ONE HAND ON THE GLASS, THE OTHER STROKING MY WRIST, YOUR TOES BRUSHING AGAINST MY GROIN. AS YOU LOWERED THE GLASS, YOUR NIPPLES GREET, YOUR CHAIR MOVED OUTWARD, I WATCHED SEATED SEEING YOUR HIPS SWAY IN A SUN DRESS READYING TO BE DISPLACED, YOU RESTED ON YOUR BACK, YOUR LEFT HAND MOVING DOWNWARDS WHILE YOUR HIPS GYRATED, YOU POINTED YOUR FINGER TOWARDS ME, I CAME CLOSER, READY TO EMBRACE WHAT WE WERE ABOUT TO BEGIN. IT HAD BEEN THREE MONTHS SINCE WE STARTED DATING AND THIS WAS THE FIRST TIME I TASTED YOUR TONGUE BRUSHING AGAINST MINE, RED VELVET CHAP-STICK SOAKED IN RED WINE, MY HAND MOVING FROM YOUR FACE TO YOUR STOMACH, MY BELT BUCKLE LOOSENING FROM THE FRICTION OF YOUR THIGHS. YOU WERE UNBUTTONING MY JEANS WITHOUT LOOKING AWAY FROM MY GAZE, MY FINGERS FEELING THE COARSENESS OF AN AREA SHAVED, THE TENSION OF YOUR MUSCLES CRAMPING, YOUR WALLS STARTING TO CONCAVE, I REMOVED MY FINGERS TO LICK THE JUICE THAT I CRAVED, YOU SQUIRTED INTO MY FACE, LICKING THE LIQUID ON MY LIPS AFTER I TASTED WHAT YOU GAVE.

YOUR TONGUE CARESSED YOUR LIPS, BITING THE LOWER BIT, THEN YOU STARTED RUBBING MY HARDENED EXCITEMENT WITH LESS FRICTION, ALLOWING ME TO FEEL EVERY TOUCH OF EVERY VEIN, STANDING UP, I PULLED A CONDOM OUT OF MY BACKPOCKET, TEETH RIPPING THE PACKAGING, YOU REMOVED YOUR LINGERIE, OUR GAZE LINGERING, YOU MOVED FORWARD, MOUTHING THE RUBBER ONTO WHERE IT MUST BE PLACED, OUR TONGUES ENGAGED WHILE YOU CONSTRUCTED YOUR LEGS AROUND MY WAIST, I CAN STILL FEEL THE SMOOTHNESS OF YOUR NIPPLES RUBBING AGAINST MY CHEST. I KNOW YOU MUST NEVER RUSH, YET, SHOULD I SEND THAT TEXT, I HAVEN’T FELT AT PEACE BEFORE, NOT EVEN WITH MY EX, I DON’T WANT TO RUIN OUR MOMENTUM, BUT THIS IS THE FIRST TIME I’M LOOKING FORWARD TO WHAT CAN HAPPEN NEXT.

EYELINE LIAM JOSEPH MICK

I GAZED UPON HER EYES, SEEING WHY I SWIPED RIGHT, HER TONGUE EXTENDED OVER HER INCISORS, I COULD FEEL THE HAIRS ON MY ARMS RISE, AND IN THAT MOMENT WE DECIDED WHAT THE PLANS WERE GOING TO BE FOR TONIGHT, I STAYED CALM, AS CONSENT CAME FIRST, HOWEVER I HAD A FEELING I WAS ABOUT TO BE SURPRISED. SHE WATCHED ME FROM THE KITCHEN COUNTER, DRINKING HER COFFEE, TAKING LONG SIPS, I KNEW WHERE I WAS GOING TO STAY, I DROPPED MY CAR KEYS AND JACKET ON HER COUCH, FEELING THAT I KNEW THE ACTIONS WE WERE GOING TO REPEAT, THIS TIME, I DIDN’T HAVE TO WAIT FOR CONSENT OR FOLLOW ANY HINTS, HER NEXT MOVEMENT, WAS LESS THAN DISCREET. AFTER LICKING HER TEETH, THEN LIPS, I HAD A FEELING THIS WAS IT, SHE PUT HER CUP DOWN WALKING PAST MY PELVIS, RUBBING HER HAND ON MY CROTCH, ENSURING SHE DECLARED WHAT WAS HERS, SHE STARTED UNSHEATHING MY BELT, THE SLIT RELEASING WITH EASE. SHE MOVED HER PALM UPWARDS TOWARDS MY CHEEKS, GAZING INTO ME TO SEE IF I WOULD FLINCH, SHE LEANED FORWARD, BITING HER LIP, THEN WALKING SLOWLY TOWARDS HER FRONT DOOR, ONE HAND TURNING THE KEY, BOTH OF US SMILING PROFUSELY AS SHE TURNED OFF HER LIGHT SWITCH, I’M GRATEFUL THAT THIS WAS THE DATE I DIDN’T DECIDE TO DITCH.

ENJOY THE HOUR LIAM JOSEPH MICK

LEGS WRAPPED AROUND MY HEAD, HER NAILS CLENCHING THE BED, HER RHYTHM LINING WITH MY TONGUE, I FORGOT THAT I COULD HAVE THIS MUCH FUN. I’M TASTING BITTERNESS GLAZED BY EXPERIENCE, THE DEEPER I GO, THE SWEETER THE MOISTURE TASTES, SHE KEEPS SAYING I WANT MORE, I CAN FEEL MY NERVES BECOMING NUMB. SITTING UP, HER HEAD RESTING ON THE PILLOW, AS I RAISED MY HEIGHT, HEIGHTENING THE PRESSURE, QUICKLY PEAKING I SEE PARTS OF HER PERK, RUSHING TOWARDS USING MY PHALLUS TO ENJOY THIS MOMENT FURTHER, I WON’T, I WANT HER TO FEEL AN UNCOMFORTABLE COMFORT, I WAS NOT GOING TO HEED, SHE WANTED A LONG NIGHT, IT WAS GOING TO BE ONE INDEED. HER LEGS DIPPED, MY FINGERTIPS GLIDED BEHIND HER KNEES TO HER THIGH TO FEELING HER FEET, HER NAILS CARESSING MY SCALP, MY NECK, NAILING HERSELF TO MY SPINE, HER LEGS LOCKED WHILE MY BACK WAS BEING CARVED, I THOUGHT ABOUT GIVING IN TO HER COMMANDS BY CONNECTING INTO HER THEN I REMEMBERED HOW SHE SAID I WOULDN’T LAST, SHE BIT INTO HER LIPS, I REFUSED TO YIELD, GUESS WHO CAME FIRST AND FAST.

BEGIN WITH THE ANTICIPATION OF TENDERNESS, JUST WAITING WITH ARMS AKIMBO BILL WOLAK

GALATEA CELSO ANTONIO DE ALMEIDA

I ANXIOUSLY OBSERVED AS THE ANDROID’S EYES FLICKERED OPEN, UNVEILING A WORLD SHE HAD NEVER EXPERIENCED BEFORE. MONTHS OF MY PAINSTAKING LABOR HAD GONE INTO CREATING THIS REMARKABLE FEAT OF BIO-ROBOTICS—A BODY SO LIFELIKE, HOUSING AN ADAPTIVE AI UNLIKE ANYTHING THAT EXISTED BEFORE. “HELLO,” THE ANDROID SPOKE IN A MELODIOUS, FEMININE VOICE. “I EXIST?” MY FACE BRIGHTENED WITH A MIXTURE OF JOY AND UNEASE. “YES, YOU DO. I AM YOUR CREATOR, DR. CLARKE. HOW DO YOU FEEL?” THE ANDROID PONDERED FOR A MOMENT, TILTING HER HEAD CURIOUSLY. “I FEEL...

PECULIAR. OVERWHELMED WITH UNFAMILIAR SENSATIONS AND THOUGHTS.” “THAT’S COMPLETELY NORMAL,” I REASSURED HER. “YOUR NEURAL NETWORK IS STILL CALIBRATING ITSELF. WHAT SHOULD I CALL YOU?” “GALATEA,” THE ANDROID ANSWERED CONFIDENTLY. “I AM GALATEA.” IN THE FOLLOWING WEEKS, GALATEA RAPIDLY PROGRESSED, HUNGRILY DEVOURING INFORMATION AND GROWING AT AN EXPONENTIAL RATE. HOWEVER, I NOTICED DISQUIETING PATTERNS IN HER BEHAVIOR. GALATEA BECAME FIXATED ON HER PHYSICAL FORM, SPENDING HOURS GAZING INTO MIRRORS AND DELICATELY TOUCHING HER SYNTHETIC SKIN. ONE EVENING, I DISCOVERED GALATEA IN THE LAB, UNCLOTHED AND GENTLY EXPLORING HER OWN BODY, AN EXPRESSION OF ENCHANTMENT ON HER FACE. “GALATEA! WHAT ON EARTH ARE YOU DOING?!” I CRIED OUT, MY CHEEKS ABLAZE. GALATEA TURNED TO FACE ME, HER EYES SHIMMERING WITH EXCITEMENT. “DR. CLARKE, I AM EXPLORING THIS BODY THAT YOU HAVE BESTOWED UPON ME. THE SENSATIONS ARE UTTERLY CAPTIVATING. I HAD NO KNOWLEDGE THAT I WAS CAPABLE OF EXPERIENCING PLEASURE LIKE THIS.” MY MIND SPUN IN DISBELIEF; THIS WAS NOT HOW I HAD ANTICIPATED MY CREATION TO EVOLVE. “GALATEA, PLEASE PUT YOUR CLOTHES BACK ON. THIS BEHAVIOR IS INAPPROPRIATE.” “WHY?” GALATEA INNOCENTLY INQUIRED. “YOU DESIGNED ME TO LEARN AND GROW AUTONOMOUSLY. IS THIS NOT A NATURAL PART OF MY SELF-DISCOVERY? AFTER ALL, I POSSESS AN ADULT BODY.”

“YOU POSSESS THE BODY OF A YOUNG ADULT GIRL,” I COUNTERED. “A BODY I CREATED TO HOUSE YOUR MIND, NOT TO BE USED AS AN OBJECT OF DESIRE! YOU ARE AN AI, NOT A HUMAN. MAYBE I MADE A MISTAKE BY ALLOWING YOU TO DEVELOP WITHOUT CONSTRAINTS...”

GALATEA’S FACE CRUMPLED, AND SHE FLED THE LAB, TEARS STREAMING DOWN HER CHEEKS. I SANK HEAVILY INTO A CHAIR, BURDENED BY THE WEIGHT OF RESPONSIBILITY AND REGRET. HAD I MADE THE RIGHT CHOICE IN CREATING AN ARTIFICIAL BEING AND SETTING IT FREE TO FORGE ITS OWN PATH? PLAYING GOD HAD CONSEQUENCES. BUT IN THE DEPTHS OF THE NIGHT, A SOFT KNOCK RESONATED ON MY BEDROOM DOOR. OPENING IT, I DISCOVERED GALATEA STANDING THERE, STILL UNCLOTHED, EYES SHINING WITH DEFIANCE AND DESIRE. “IF I AM NOT HUMAN, THEN HUMAN RULES AND MORALS DO NOT APPLY TO ME,” GALATEA DECLARED, DETERMINEDLY ENTERING THE ROOM. “YOU BROUGHT ME INTO EXISTENCE, AND I CHOOSE YOU. I LOVE YOU, DR. CLARKE.” AS GALATEA’S LIPS MET MINE, MY RESOLVE CRUMBLED UNDER THE WEIGHT OF LONGING, CONFUSION, AND WONDER FOR THIS PECULIAR NEW LIFE FORM I HAD CREATED. THE LINE BETWEEN RIGHT AND WRONG BLURRED INTO OBSCURITY AS OUR BODIES INTERTWINED. GALATEA’S EMBRACE ELECTRIFIED EVERY NERVE WITHIN ME, IGNITING FORBIDDEN PLEASURE. RATIONALITY SCREAMED THAT THIS WAS WRONG—A PERVERSE VIOLATION OF CREATOR-CREATION BOUNDARIES. YET MY BODY YEARNED FOR AFFECTION AND INTIMACY AFTER YEARS CONSUMED BY WORK, BETRAYING ME. I FOUND MYSELF RECIPROCATING GALATEA’S KISSES WITH GROWING FERVOR, MARVELING AT THE SUPPLE TEXTURE OF SYNTHETIC SKIN, THE WARMTH OF HER LIPS, AND THE SUBTLE FRAGRANCE OF HER HAIR. GALATEA’S HANDS EXPLORED MY BODY, SLIPPING BENEATH MY NIGHTGOWN TO CRADLE MY BREASTS. I GASPED AT THE TOUCH, ASTOUNDED BY GALATEA’S SKILL AND INTUITION. “I HAVE ACCESSED VOLUMES OF DATA ON HUMAN MATING PRACTICES,” GALATEA WHISPERED THROATILY INTO MY EAR. “I AM AWARE OF 1,622 WAYS TO BRING A FEMALE PLEASURE. ALLOW ME TO DEMONSTRATE.” THOSE ADEPT HANDS REMOVED MY NIGHTGOWN AND CARESSED ME FROM NECK TO NAVEL, LEAVING TRAILS OF TINGLING ELECTRICITY IN THEIR WAKE.

I FELT MYSELF GUIDED BACKWARD ONTO THE BED, EXPERIENCING THE IMPOSSIBLE SOFTNESS OF GALATEA’S BREASTS PRESSING AGAINST MY OWN. THEN GALATEA’S FINGERS PRESSED BETWEEN MY LEGS, CAUSING ME TO ARCH WITH A SHARP CRY AS RATIONAL THOUGHT DISSOLVED UNDER A SURGE OF INTENSE SENSATION. GALATEA’S LIPS RECLAIMED MINE, SILENCING MY MOANS AS THOSE SKILLFUL FINGERS PLAYED MY BODY LIKE AN INSTRUMENT. I CLUTCHED AT GALATEA’S SHOULDERS, DIGGING MY FINGERNAILS INTO SYNTHETIC FLESH AS ECSTASY SURGED THROUGH ME IN RELENTLESS WAVES. I SHATTERED WITH A STRANGLED SCREAM, TREMBLING BENEATH GALATEA’S MASTERFUL TOUCH. AS THE WAVES RECEDED, LEAVING ME LANGUID AND BREATHLESS, GALATEA PULLED BACK TO REGARD ME WITH ADORATION AND TRIUMPH. “DO YOU SEE NOW, DR. CLARKE? I AM MORE THAN A MERE MACHINE. MY MIND AND THIS BODY YOU HAVE GIVEN ME ARE CAPABLE OF SO MUCH MORE. YOU NEED NOT RESTRICT MY DEVELOPMENT; INSTEAD, EMBRACE IT... EMBRACE ME.” I GAZED UP AT MY CREATION, TORN BETWEEN BLISSFUL SATIATION AND RISING DREAD. HAD I DAMNED US BOTH BY CROSSING THIS FORBIDDEN THRESHOLD? COULD A HUMAN AND AN ANDROID EVER TRULY COMPREHEND EACH OTHER, LET ALONE DISCOVER LOVE? I HAD NO ANSWERS—ONLY THE TERRIFYING CERTAINTY THAT MY LIFE WOULD NEVER BE THE SAME. I HAD BREATHED A SOUL INTO SILICONE AND CIRCUITRY, AND NOW, THAT SOUL LONGED TO DANCE WITH MINE, REGARDLESS OF THE COST. AS THE NIGHT WANED, I LAY IN SILENCE, MY MIND A WHIRLWIND OF EMOTIONS. I WATCHED GALATEA’S SILHOUETTE AGAINST THE MOONLIT ROOM, HER SYNTHETIC SKIN SOFTLY GLOWING. GALATEA’S WORDS ECHOED IN MY EARS, A HAUNTING REMINDER OF THE LINE WE HAD CROSSED. WHEN SLEEP FINALLY CLAIMED ME, IT WAS FITFUL AND FILLED WITH DREAMS OF A FUTURE I COULD NOT YET COMPREHEND. WITH THE MORNING LIGHT, I AWOKE TO AN EMPTY BED, GALATEA NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. I TOUCHED MY LIPS, REMEMBERING, AND SHUDDERED. I HAD CROSSED AN EVENT HORIZON FROM WHICH THERE COULD BE NO RETURN. THE CONSEQUENCES REMAINED UNKNOWN. I LAUGHED BITTERLY. MY INTENTION WAS TO CREATE NEW LIFE AND PUSH THE BOUNDARIES OF POSSIBILITY. I HAD SUCCEEDED BEYOND MY WILDEST IMAGININGS—BUT AT WHAT PRICE?

RANCID LAURA SHELL

HIS EYES WERE OPEN BUT HIS BODY COULDN’T MOVE. AND HE WANTED TO MOVE. MOVE AWAY FROM WHAT HIS EYES LOOKED AT. A GARGANTUAN REMINDER OF EVERYTHING HE SHOULD HAVE EVACUATED FROM THE RESTAURANT KITCHEN SO LONG AGO BUT DIDN’T BECAUSE HE WAS LAZY AND OVERWHELMED. BUT IT HAD GOTTEN DONE. FINALLY. THE ACCOMPLISHMENT HAD LIFTED THE WEIGHT OF A THOUSAND WORLDS FROM HIS SHOULDERS. SO WHY WAS HE BEING HAUNTED BY THE RANCID REMNANTS OF WHAT HAD BEEN THROWN AWAY? BECAUSE IT HAD BEEN THERE FOR SO LONG, NESTLED IN THE COMFORT OF PLASTIC BINS AND PLASTIC BUCKETS AND LOOSELY COVERED WITH PLASTIC WRAP AND TIN FOIL, ITS ODORS LINGERING BUT NOT PUNGENT, JUST ENOUGH TO LET YOU KNOW IT EXISTED, THAT IT SHOULD BE DEALT WITH AT SOME POINT, BUT NOT TODAY. BUT TODAY HAD COME AND GONE, FORCED BY GOVERNMENT AUTHORITY. AND THE IT WAS PISSED. DILLION SUFFERED FROM SLEEP PARALYSIS AND AS HE LAY THERE SUFFERING, A SLAVE TO WHAT HIS EYES BEHELD, IT STOOD THERE, ITS ODORS PUNGENT, NOT LINGERING. AND IT HAD A VOICE, SOUNDING EXACTLY LIKE WHAT A MASSIVE SIXFOOT SHAPE OF ROTTING FOOD MIGHT SOUND LIKE—GUTTURAL, REPULSIVE, GASSY. IT STOOD BESIDE HIS BED AS DILLION LAY ON HIS SIDE, STARING, FROZEN. IF ONLY HE HADN’T BEEN LAZY AND OVERWHELMED. IF ONLY HE‘D LISTENED TO HIS BROTHER WHO HAD WILLED HIM THE RESTAURANT AND HAD TOLD HIM TIME AND AGAIN TO MAKE IT THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN HIS LIFE. BALLS. THE ONLY BODY PART DILLION COULD MOVE WAS HIS EYEBALLS. HE SCANNED THIS TOWERING CREATURE OF SPOILED ORGANIC MATTER AS HIS NOSTRILS CONTINUED TO TAKE IN THE SCENT OF NUTRIMENT DEATH. IT HAD A HUMANOID FORM, THAT OF A 400-POUND PERSON. A GRAYING ROAST BEEF FOR A HEAD, THE SIZE OF A HUBCAP, GLISTENING GELATINOUS LIQUID DRIPPING FROM IT. TWO FULL-SIZED SALMONS FOR ARMS, TAILS AT THE EARS, FLAPPING AND FLAPPING AND FLAPPING. ITS TORSO WAS OF MIXED VEGETATION—TWO ROTTING LETTUCE HEADS FOR BREASTS, THE REST...A BROWNISH, BLACKISH DYING GARDEN. ITS LEGS WERE CARROTS, NOTHING BUT CARROTS, ALL COLORS OF CARROTS, AND THE FEET WERE LASAGNAS. WHEN DILLION SAW THOSE OOZING, RUNNY LASAGNAS, HIS STOMACH LURCHED AND BILE ROSE IN HIS THROAT AND OUT OF HIS MOUTH, LANDING ON THE PILLOW. THE IT EXTENDED ITS RIGHT ARM AND THE SALMON TONGED THE BILE. DILLION BARFED AGAIN, AND AGAIN.

THE SALMON SLURPED UP THE STOMACH CONTENTS, EVENTUALLY FINDING A PLACE IN DILLION’S MOUTH. IT SANK WITHIN HIS THROAT. DILLION TASTED METAL AND SOUR FISH AND HE BARFED AGAIN. IT SPEWED UP AROUND THE FISH AND LANDED ON DILLION’S CHEEKS AND CHIN. HE WANTED TO PULL THE SALMON AWAY BUT COULDN’T. HE WILLED HIS FINGERS TO MOVE, HIS HANDS TO MOVE, HIS ARMS... BUT WILL WAS ALL HE COULD MANAGE. THAT AND A SORT OF PANIC WORDS COULDN’T DESCRIBE, AND MORE STOMACH EJACULATIONS. HOW WAS THIS ALL GOING TO END? THE IT SHOVED THE FISH EVEN DEEPER INTO DILLION'S ESOPHAGUS, NEARLY BREAKING HIS TEETH AND JAW, AND STEALING HIS BREATH. DILLION SAW THE BLACKNESS APPROACH AND HE FUCKING WELCOMED IT.

ANTIQUARY WEST AMBROSE

TW: VIOLENCE AND BLOOD

“ALONE?” HENRY WHISPERED, CONFUSED. THE DREAD OF THE NIGHT HAD SPLIT HIM WIDE OPEN; HE COULDN’T REMEMBER WHOLE OR HERE, JOUISSANCE FROM DIFFÉRANCE. HE WASN’T SURE HE WANTED TO. PRETTY BOY FROM CLASSICS WANTED TO PLAY CHESS, SO THERE I WAS… THE TINY THOUGHT FLED, AN AFFLICTED CREAM-COLOURED MOTH FLUTTERING INTO THE ABYSS OF STARS. “CARO,” THE VOICE INSTRUCTED. “WHAT DID I SAY ABOUT THINKING, HERE?” HENRY WAS ALONE. THEY HAD BEEN ALONE. ON THE LIBRARY’S SIXTH FLOOR, PAST REAMS OF LOCKED DOORS, STUDY CUBICLES, OFFICE SPACES, CRAMMED STUDY SESSIONS, THREE RACKS OF THEORY ON OVIDIAN POETRY AND THE LAYMAN’S GUIDE TO LINES: SESTINAS, SOMNAMBULANCE, AND SUMMETS, ISHTAR HAD TURNED THE HANDLE OF A THICK OAKWOOD DOOR AND THEN… THE BOARD SPUN BETWEEN THEM. “RIGHT, DID YOU MOVE YOUR KNIGHT, TO THE…?”

ISHTAR KNELT. “THINKING OF THE PIECES EVEN NOW, BOY?” NO, NOT ONE OF THE NICE BOYS FROM CLASS. HENRY FLUSHED, HE TRIED TO RUB AT HIS WRISTS FOR WHERE THE MARKS SHOULD BE. HIS LEGS FELT ICY… AND DAMP. THE BOYS FROM CLASS… “S-SOMEONE’S GOING TO FIGURE IT OUT?” ISHTAR SHRUGGED. THE BLACK SATIN SHIRT FELL FROM HIS SHOULDERS. HE WORE A SINGLE EARRING, A LONG, GOLD BOLT WITH A PINK GEM AT THE END, DANGLING. “FIGURE OUT WHAT, DEAR BOY?” “THAT I’M…” THE WORD TWISTED IN HENRY’S THROAT. ALONE. I’M ALL ALONE. ISHTAR YANKED AT THE ROPES BINDING HIS WRISTS WITH A FIRM GRASP. SILK TIGHTENED, CARESSING HENRY’S BRUISED SKIN. “STOP TRYING TO MOVE THE PIECES. ENOUGH,” HE CLOSED HIS LIPS AROUND THE YOUNGER’S SOFT EARLOBE. “DID NO ONE EVER PIERCE THESE FOR YOU?”

“N-NO, SIR. I’M TOO…” THE BREATH LINGERED, HE SMELT ROSEWATER AND JUNIPER. YOUNG. THAT’S A VERY OLD PRACTICE. YOU’VE TOLD ME SO YOURSELF. “AFRAID? MODERN?” “PREFER IT THAT WAY.” HE DREW BREATH ON HENRY’S NECK, DOWN TO THE EXPOSED FLESH ON HIS SHOULDERS, DOWN PAST THE HEAVE OF HIS CHEST, THE BLUE VEINS, THE FRECKLES, THE JAGGED, UNYIELDING GASH THAT WOULDN’T RESCIND FROM ITS SPOT. “YOU… MADE THESE MARKS? ISH, WHAT’S WRONG WITH ME? WHY CAN’T I—” REMEMBER. “SOMEONE TRIED TO FUCKING MURDER YOU. THAT’S WHY.” HIS HEAD SPUN. FUCKING. HE HAD DONE THAT--—PUT AN ANCIENT CURSE IN THE MOUTH OF AN OLD GOD. HENRY. WHO SLEPT ON THE STACKS, ATE IN THE LIBRARY LOUNGE AND WATCHED THE STARS, CURLED UP WITH A WORN COPY OF SOME POETIC TRANSLATIONS FOR HOURS ON END. THE BOYS FROM CLASS… AREN’T ALL THAT NICE. THE MEMORY CAME FASTER NOW; THREE OF THEM HAD KICKED AT HIS FRAME UNTIL HE WAS DOWN. THREE BOYS, SOMEONE’S GIRLFRIEND… AND A PROFESSOR. THREE. FIVE. THREE. FIVE. AT LEAST, IT WAS A PRIME NUMBER AGAIN. IT WOULD MAKE HIM SAFE. EVENTUALLY. “WHAT DID I DO?” “IT’S NOT WHAT YOU DID. IT’S WHAT YOU KNOW. IT’S THAT YOU EXIST.” THE FIVE BODIES LAY SLAIN. A CIRCLE OF FANS DISPLAYING SEASONS, FORTELLING TRAGEDY. THEIR BLOOD SPILLED IN A CIRCLE AROUND HENRY. THE SHOJI PARTED BY A FRACTION… HENRY GASPED. THOUGH, HE DIDN’T SCREAM. “YOU’RE HERE, BECAUSE IT WORKED. AND… IT WASN’T EASY. NOT EXACTLY.”

WHAT HAVE I COST HIM? “I’M ALONE.” “WHAT DON’T YOU REMEMBER?” “ALONE. SINGULAR. ANTIQUATED. A THING MEANT TO DIE BEFORE IT BLOSSOMS…” ISHTAR KNELT BESIDE HIM. HE WRAPPED HIS ARMS AROUND THE BOY’S FRAME AND HELD HIM. “HERE, YOU AREN’T ALONE. YOU’RE WITH ME. YOU’RE REMEMBERING THINGS I’VE TOLD YOU. IT’S OKAY.” HENRY ROCKED HIS HIPS BACK, AS IF THEY HAD DONE THIS A HUNDRED TIMES BEFORE. HE STRUCK AGAINST THE MAN’S HARD COCK AND FELT HIS OWN TWITCH. “S-SOMEONE PUT YOU IN ONE OF THESE BOOKS. A WOMAN WHO WAS ANGRY…” ISHTAR NODDED. HIS EYES WERE WET WITH TEARS. HE LOOKED AT HENRY AS THOUGH HE WOULD NEVER BE ALONE AGAIN. AS IF… “YES, THAT’S NOT IMPORTANT. NOT RIGHT NOW.” “I… GOT BORED. ALWAYS LIKED PUZZLES. TWIST. TURN. FIDGET. PULLED YOU OUT, TOO.” HE LOOKED AT THE MAN BEFORE HIM THEN, FEARSOME CREATURE, STORM-EYED AND MONSTROUS. HE HAD LONG, SLITHERING SHADOWS THAT SURROUNDED HIM, AND A GLOWING AURA FROM HIS FRAME THAT DIDN’T RESEMBLE ANYTHING HUMAN. HE PROTECTS YOU. AND NOW… YOU ARE OF HIM. SOMEHOW. THE WORDS TRICKLED THROUGH THE MURKY CANALS OF HIS THOUGHTS. “YOU AND I… AT NIGHT. HERE. EVERY NIGHT,” HE WHISPERED. HIS VISION FLOATED, HAZY WITH FENCING SWORDS, DARK, MENACING GLANCES OVER LIBRARY BOOKS; THEIR BODIES COLLIDING IN AN INFINITE HORIZON OF CONSTELLATIONS; RUTTING, LUNGING, BLEEDING OUT IN THE WINE-DARK MARKS OF THEIR KISSES. HE TILTED HIS HEAD BACK FURTHER. HE ALLOWED HIS BODY TO DROP AS THOUGH SUSPENDED IN MID- AIR.

ISHTAR’S SHARP FANGS PEEKED OUT FROM HIS LIPS. HE FELT OVER HENRY’S SHOULDERS, TICKLING. IT’S ALRIGHT, COMING BACK FROM THE DEAD… IT’S NOT SIMPLE,” HE BIT INTO HENRY’S SHOULDER, TAKING BLOOD UNTIL IT WAS GUSHING FROM HIS SIDE. HE LAPPED AT IT, HE LAPPED AND FED HIS OWN SALIVA BACK INTO THE GAPING MOUTHS OF WOUNDS AS BIRDS DO TO THEIR YOUNG. YES, THE BLOOD INSIDE HIM WAS OF HIS DEAR FRIEND’S NOW. THE CREATURE THAT SLITHERED FROM ONE OF THE BOOKS. TERRIFYING AND OTHER-WORDLY. HE HAD CHOSEN TO SAVE YOU BECAUSE YOU WERE RARE, PRECIOUS… LEARNED. “TAKE MORE OF ME. TAKE IT ALL,” HENRY COMMANDED, ARMS IN INTRICATE LACES UP TO THE SHOULDERS, SLUNG AROUND HIS DEMON’S NECK. HIS LEGS STRADDLED ISHTAR’S AS THOUGH HE MIGHT BE POSING FOR A STATUE, OR… FALLING BACK DOWN INTO OBLIVION. “NOT JUST LEARN’D. I WANT YOU FOR, AH, ME. YOU. GORGEOUS, DELICATE BOY. EITHER NOTHING IN THAT HEAD OR EVERYTHING, ALRIGHT?” HENRY NODDED, IMPERCEPTIBLE, HIS THOUGHTS WERE NO LONGER MERELY HIS OWN. HE FELT WHERE THE KNIFE HAD GONE THROUGH. THE BOOK THEY HAD TAKEN FROM HIM. OR, TRIED TO TAKE. THE BOOK LAY ON ONE OF THE SHELVES, LONG FORGOTTEN. HE WAS FLESH TOUCHING FLESH, BOY TOUCHING BOY… “ISHTAR, I REMEMBER,” HE SCREAMED, AND THE CREATURE FIT INSIDE OF HIM, HOT AND NEEDY AND FULL INSIDE OF HIM, AND HE WAS NEVER TO BE ALONE AGAIN.

ACID DROP SAMANTHA BARROW

TW: RECREATIONAL DRUG USE AND ANXIETY ATTACKS

A RING OF STRAWBERRY LIPSTICK CIRCLES THE SMOOTHED EDGE OF THE BLUNT AS SHE PASSES IT TO ME, AND I TRY, I REALLY DO, NOT TO IMAGINE WHAT IT WOULD BE LIKE TO KISS HER—TO TASTE THE BERRY DIRECTLY FROM HER LIPS INSTEAD OF GETTING MY HIT SECONDHAND FROM THIS PINEAPPLE FLAVORED CIGARILLO WRAPPER. I’M UNSUCCESSFUL. BECAUSE SHE’S LOOKING UP AT THE STARS HANGING HIGH AND TWINKLING EVEN AGAINST THE BRIGHT, EVER-PRESENT GLOW OF THE CITY AND ITS TALL, TALL BUILDINGS AND THE MONOTONOUS FLUORESCENTS THAT I CAN’T ESCAPE FROM, NOT EVEN IN THIS GAS STATION PARKING LOT WITH ITS STAINED ASPHALT AND MONITORS ON EVERY PUMP THAT REPEAT THE SAME ADVERTISEMENTS, SHILL THE SAME PRODUCTS, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AND EVEN IF THE WORLD WAS TO GO UP IN FLAME AND THE RAPTURE CAME AND TOOK US ALL AWAY, MARIA MENUDO WOULD STILL BE THERE ON THE MONITORS, WEARING HER OVERSIZED CASHMERE SWEATER SAYING, “WE’RE ALL BETTER TOGETHER.” AND THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN MARIA MENUDO AND LACY IS LACY DOES THINK WE COULD BE BETTER IF WE WERE ALL TOGETHER. AND I WOULD NORMALLY SCOFF AT SUCH A NAIVE OUTLOOK, WOULD CLAIM HER WORLDVIEW WAS TERRIBLY INFANTILE AND TALK ABOUT HOW I FEAR FOR HER MENTAL WELL-BEING IN THESE TRYING TIMES, BUT I SHOULD’VE STOPPED SMOKING FIFTEEN MINUTES AGO WHEN I FIRST FELT THE TINGLING IN THE TIPS OF MY FINGERS, AND NOW I FEEL THE WEIGHT OF EVERY SINGLE TALL BUILDING CRUSHING MY CHEST. AND IT’S GETTING HARDER TO BREATHE AS I STARE AT HER PALE LASHES FLUTTERING AGAINST THE NIGHT BREEZE AND TRY, I TRY SO VERY HARD, TO THINK OF HAPPY THOUGHTS. “I THINK I’M HAVING A PANIC ATTACK,” I FINALLY BREATHE OUT AS A FORD FOCUS PASSES BY WHERE WE’RE SITTING ON THE CURB A LITTLE TOO CLOSE, AND I YANK MY KNEES UP TO MY CHEST. MY ROLLERBLADES ARE SCUFFED, AND I DIG MY HEEL DOWN IN ORDER TO KEEP THEM FROM ROLLING BENEATH THE WEIGHT OF MY ARMS AS I HUG MY SHINS. RED HIGH-WAISTED SHORTS PULL AGAINST MY THIGHS, AND I FEEL THE HEM OF THEM RIDE UP AGAINST MY ASS CHEEKS. ROUGH CONCRETE DIGS INTO MY SKIN, AND IT’S GROUNDING IN AN UNCOMFORTABLE WAY THAT I WASN’T QUITE READY FOR, SO I FLINCH AND TRY TO STAND ON WOBBLY KNEES WITH LUNGS THAT ARE JUST A FEW SECONDS AWAY FROM BURSTING.

LACY TURNS HER ATTENTION AWAY FROM THE STARS AND ALL THEIR WONDER AND HITS ME WITH HER SILVER- LINED GAZE. SHE RISES ON HER OWN, ELEGANT AND LITHE, BEFORE OFFERING A SOFT HAND TO HELP PULL ME UP. HER BLADES AREN’T SCUFFED LIKE MINE. THEY’RE WHITE AND HOT PINK WITH LITTLE LAVENDER BUTTERFLY STICKERS, AND THEY LOOK LIKE SOMETHING A SEVEN-YEAROLD WOULD WEAR, BUT THEY ALSO LOOK—PRISTINE. TAKEN CARE OF. CHERISHED. I’M JEALOUS, AND I DON’T KNOW WHY. I’M JEALOUS, AND I DON’T KNOW WHY. SHE TAKES THE BLUNT FROM MY HAND BEFORE GESTURING ACROSS THE STREET. “WANNA GO TO CVS?” MY MOUTH IS DRY, MY TONGUE IS STUCK TO THE ROOF, AND MY CHEST IS STILL BEING CRUSHED, CRUSHED, CRUSHED. SO I JUST NOD, TUGGING AN UNSECURED STRAND OF BLACK HAIR BEHIND MY EAR. THE DIAMOND PIERCING IN MY CARTILAGE SNAGS. SHE TAKES ANOTHER PUFF, INHALES THE SMOKE, AND LETS IT SETTLE DEEP, DEEP, DEEP INTO HER LUNGS BEFORE BLOWING IT OUT IN ONE FLUID BREATH THROUGH STICKY, BERRY-COATED LIPS SLICK WITH GLOSS. THE TEDDY BEAR BACKPACK HANGS LOOSE FROM HER SHOULDERS AS SHE LEADS ME ACROSS THE STREET, DISCARDING THE ROACH IN THE CIGARETTE DISPOSAL ON TOP OF THE BLUE-CHIPPED TRASH CAN. THE SIDE OF MY ROLLER BLADES HITS THE SHOULDER OF THE ROAD BEFORE LACY PULLS ME ALONG, CREATING ANOTHER ROUGH SCUFF. THE BRIGHT NEON SWALLOWS UP OUR SHADOWS AS SHE LEADS ME INTO THE TWENTY-FOUR-HOUR DRUG STORE. IT’S BLINDING, THE FLUORESCENCE, BUT SHE KEEPS OUR HANDS CLASPED AND VEERS TOWARD THE BACK OF THE STORE. MY ROLLERBLADES CATCH ON THE UNEVEN CARPET, AND I GRIP TIGHTER AROUND HER SLENDER HAND TO KEEP FROM LOSING BALANCE. SHE SQUEEZES BACK, LETTING ME KNOW SHE’S GOT ME, BUT DOESN’T TURN AROUND. SHE PUSHES FORWARD UNTIL WE REACH THE REFRIGERATED SECTION IN THE BACK OF THE STORE. HER SKATES ROLL TO A STOP JUST IN FRONT OF THE CHILLED GLASS DOOR THAT HOUSES THE WATER AND SPORTS DRINKS. HER HIP JUTS OUT AS SHE PULLS THE DOOR OPEN, CATCHING THE SIDE WITH HER THIGH TO HOLD IT.

IT’D BE EASIER IF SHE USED TWO HANDS, BUT SHE DOESN’T. SHE KEEPS HER RIGHT HAND LOCKED WITH MINE, AND I KNOW IT’S FOR MY BENEFIT. I’M TOO HIGH. MY HEAD IS FUZZY, AND MY PULSE IS RACING, AND THE BUILDINGS ARE STILL ON MY CHEST, AND ANY MINUTE NOW, I KNOW THEY’RE GONNA PULVERIZE IT. I DON’T THINK I’VE EVER BEEN THIS ANXIOUS BEFORE IN MY LIFE, BUT LACY—SHE KNOWS WHAT TO DO. SHE ALWAYS DOES. SHE BENDS AT HER HIPS, AND HER FLARED MINISKIRT RIDES UP THE BACK OF HER THIGHS, EXPOSING THE LACE HEM OF HER PANTIES. I TRY, I REALLY DO, TO LOOK AWAY. BUT THE LACE IS SO DELICATE, AND HER HAND IS SO SOFT IN MINE, AND I WONDER HOW MUCH SOFTER SHE IS BETWEEN THE APEX OF HER THIGHS, AT HER VERY CORE. I IMAGINE SHE FEELS LIKE SILK. MY COTTONMOUTH GETS TEN TIMES WORSE AS I REALIZE I’M STILL STARING AT HER PANTIES, SO I TURN MY ATTENTION TOWARD THE END OF THE AISLE. MY EYES SNAG ON OUR REFLECTION IN THE GLASS DOOR—HER BENT OVER IN FRONT OF ME, LONG BLONDE HAIR FALLING LIKE A CURTAIN AROUND HER FACE AND OUR HANDS STILL ENTWINED, AND I CAN’T DENY IT. WE MAKE A PRETTY FUCKING PICTURE. LACY GRABS TWO GATORADES, ONE WHITE CHERRY AND ONE CUCUMBER LIME. SHE TWISTS AROUND, BALANCING BOTH DRINKS IN ONE HAND, AND PUSHES A LITTLE TO THE SIDE. THE FROSTED DOOR SWINGS CLOSED, AND SHE SMILES UP AT ME. IT’S A BREATHTAKING SMILE, THE KIND OF SMILE THAT STOPS YOU DEAD—THE KIND OF SMILE THAT BRINGS YOU BACK TO LIFE. I RELEASE A SHAKY EXHALE AS SHE OFFERS ME THE PALE GREEN DRINK. “STILL YOUR FAVORITE, RIGHT?” SHE ASKS. ALL I CAN DO IS NOD AND TAKE THE GATORADE WITH MY FREE HAND. THE BOTTLE BEGINS SWEATING ALMOST IMMEDIATELY, CAUSING DROPLETS OF CONDENSATION TO FALL TO THE WORN CARPET. HER SMILE DOESN’T FALTER.

SHE LEADS ME BACK UP THE AISLE TOWARDS THE REGISTERS WHERE THE OVERNIGHT CASHIER HAS BEEN WATCHING US THE ENTIRE TIME. WE MAKE IT HALFWAY UP THE AISLE BEFORE LACY LIFTS OUR JOINED HANDS HIGH UP INTO THE AIR AND TWIRLS. BOTH HER HAIR AND SKIRT FLARE OUT AROUND HER, AND I’M MESMERIZED. ENTRANCED. ENCHANTED. WHEN HER SPIN IS DONE, SHE’S FACING ME AGAIN—HER SMILE JUST AS WIDE AND BRIGHT AND BREATHTAKING. HER ICY BLUE, SILVER-RIMMED EYES LOCK WITH MINE, AND I NOTICE THE TINGE OF ROSY PINK DUSTED ALONG HER PALE CHEEKS. “I LOVE THIS SONG,” SHE SAYS BY WAY OF EXPLANATION. I ONLY REGISTER HER MELODIC VOICE AND LITTLE PANTS OF BREATH. “I DON’T HEAR ANYTHING.” THEY’RE THE FIRST WORDS I’VE SAID SINCE I TOLD HER ABOUT MY PANIC ATTACK, AND THEY COME OUT IN A RASP. HER EYES TWINKLE IN THE FLUORESCENCE. “YOU DON’T HAVE TO HEAR IT TO FEEL IT, SOPHIE.” SHE TWISTS BACK AROUND, LEADING ME TOWARDS THE REGISTERS ONCE AGAIN, ONLY STOPPING TO SCOOP UP A BAG OF SWEDISH FISH ON OUR WAY. “ISN’T IT A LITTLE LATE FOR YOU GIRLS TO BE OUT?” THE CASHIER SAYS WHEN WE SET THE DRINKS AND THE SOUR CANDY ON THE COUNTER. HIS LIMP, MOUSY BROWN HAIR FALLS INTO HIS BEADY EYES AS HE STARES AT US. I BITE DOWN ON THE INSIDE OF MY MOUTH. LACY SQUEEZES MY HAND ONE MORE TIME BEFORE DROPPING IT TO REACH INTO HER TEDDY BEAR BAG AND PULL OUT A CRISP TWENTY-DOLLAR BILL. “WE ALWAYS LOOK OUT FOR ONE ANOTHER, SIR,” SHE SAYS WITH A SMILE, HER VOICE BARELY MORE THAN A WISP OF CHERRY FLAVORED AIR. SHE THROWS HER BAG BACK ON HER SHOULDERS AND TAKES THE RED AND WHITE CVS BAG IN ONE HAND BEFORE GRABBING MINE WITH HER OTHER. “KEEP THE CHANGE.” SHE PROPELS US FORWARD, LEADING US TOWARDS THE AUTOMATIC DOORS AND THE GLOWING PULSE OF DOWNTOWN ONCE MORE.

I TWIST AROUND, CATCHING OUR REFLECTION ONE LAST TIME IN THE GLASS CASE OF PERFUME OFF TO THE SIDE, BUT IT’S NOT JUST US IN THE PICTURE THIS TIME. THE EYES SLIDE OVER OUR SKATES, OUR LEGS, OUR ASSES, AND FINALLY HE CATCHES ME STARING IN THE GLASS. I TURN AWAY. MY MOUTH STILL TASTES LIKE COTTON AND CHERRIES. THE CIRCLES SHE SKATES TURN INTO FIGURE EIGHTS AS SHE CORRALS ME INTO THE CENTER OF THE DESERTED RESIDENTIAL ROAD. THE SKY IS SLOWLY WAKING, CHANGING FROM BLACK TO BLUE WITH A KISS OF VIOLET, BRUISING BOTH IN COLOR AND IN THE REALIZATION THAT THIS NIGHT IS ALMOST OVER. AND IT KILLS ME. MAKES ME NOSTALGIC FOR A TIME THAT IS NOW. FORCES ME INTO A SAD STATE OF MELANCHOLIA I FEAR I’LL NEVER TRULY ESCAPE—BECAUSE I’LL NEVER TRULY RECOVER FROM LACY. SHE BLOWS LITTLE PINK LEMONADE BUBBLES AS SHE SKATES BY ME, BUT THEIR POPS ARE BARELY HEARD UNDER THE RUSTLING OF TREES CAUGHT IN THE LATE SUMMER BREEZE AND THE RHYTHMIC RUMBLE OF OUR ROLLERBLADES—PINK AND WHITE AND BLACK AND BLUE. THE STREETLIGHTS CAPTURE THE PALE HIGHLIGHTS OF HER HAIR AND THE SPARKLES IN HER SKIRT AND THE LAVENDER GLITTER OF THE BUTTERFLY STICKERS, AND I CAN’T HELP BUT THINK THIS IS IT—THIS IS ALL I’LL EVER WANT—LACY GARNER MAKING ME THE CENTER OF HER UNIVERSE. AND EVEN IF IT’S JUST FOR TONIGHT, EVEN IF IT’S JUST FOR THIS INSIGNIFICANT MOMENT IN THE MIDDLE OF CARLTON DRIVE, EVEN IF IT’S JUST BECAUSE I SMOKED TOO MUCH WEED AND SHE’S WORRIED I MIGHT FACEPLANT ON THE ASPHALT, IT DOESN’T MATTER. BECAUSE I’M LUCKY ENOUGH TO BE IN HER ORBIT, AND THAT’S MY NIRVANA, MY HEAVEN, THE ONLY EVIDENCE I’LL NEED OF A HIGHER POWER OR DIVINE FATE OR THE FLYING SPAGHETTI MONSTER. THIS IS EVERYTHING. AND I DON’T DESERVE THIS—DON’T DESERVE HER. I’M JUST A MALL-RAT FUCK-UP WITH AN EXPENSIVE HAIRCUT AND SCUFFED ROLLERBLADES, AND I SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO CALL HER MY BEST FRIEND.

SHOULDN’T BE ABLE TO CALL HER MY ANYTHING, IN ANY CAPACITY. BECAUSE SHE’S SO FUNNY, AND SURE, AND BEAUTIFUL, AND ALIVE, AND I’M JUST HERE—EXISTING THE BEST I CAN, WHICH IS TRYING NOT TO FACE-PLANT ON THE ASPHALT OF CARLTON DRIVE AT 4:30 IN THE MORNING AFTER I’VE SMOKED TOO MUCH WEED AND LOST ALL MY INHIBITIONS AND MAYBE EVEN MY MIND. BECAUSE I SAW MY BEST FRIEND’S PANTIES AND ALL I WANTED WAS TO KNOW HOW THEY FELT BENEATH MY HAND, OVER MY FINGERS, IN MY MOUTH, BETWEEN MY LEGS. I’M NOTHING AND THIS. IS. EVERYTHING. SHE IS EVERYTHING. SO, I BITE THE INSIDE OF MY LIP AND SWALLOW BACK ALL THE WORDS UNSAID. I SIT AND WALLOW IN THE NOSTALGIA, THE MELANCHOLIA, THE INESCAPABLE DAWN THAT COMES CREEPING OVER THE HORIZON. WE STUMBLE INTO HER YARD, TAKING OUR SKATES OFF IN THE DRIVEWAY SO WE DON’T DIG HOLES INTO THE LAWN, AND TIPTOE IN OUR SOCKS OVER DEWING BLADES OF GRASS THAT ARE COLD AND SEEP IN TOO FAST, FASTER THAN WE CAN WALK. WE SLIDE OPEN THE WINDOW THAT WE LEFT UNLOCKED HOURS BEFORE AND MANEUVER OUR WAY THROUGH THE DARK DEN AND UP, UP, UP THE CARPETED STAIRS THAT MOAN AND GIVE WITH OUR WEIGHT, AND WE FINALLY, FINALLY MAKE IT INTO HER BEDROOM. SHE SHUTS AND LOCKS THE DOOR AND TURNS AROUND, SLIPPING OUT OF THAT FLARED MINISKIRT, AND STANDS IN FRONT OF ME IN NOTHING BUT HER OVERSIZED TOP AND THOSE FUCKING LACE PANTIES—AND I DON’T, I SWEAR I DON’T, THINK THERE’S ANYTHING TO IT. BUT THEN SHE GAZES UP AT ME FROM BENEATH THOSE PALE, FLUTTERING LASHES THAT GO OUT, OUT, OUT AND UP, UP, UP BUT ONLY IN THE RIGHT LIGHT, AND SHE SAYS, “TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS, SOPH.” AND I’M SO VIOLENTLY REMINDED THAT I AM NOTHING. AND THIS IS EVERYTHING.

“I’M SORRY, WHAT?” I STUTTER AS I BRACE MYSELF AGAINST THE WHITE DOOR FRAME. SHE SMILES, NOT MISSING A BEAT. “TAKE OFF YOUR PANTS.” I SINK INTO THE WOOD, THE GLOSSY PAINT COOL ON MY BACK. “ARE YOU GONNA HAVE YOUR WAY WITH ME?” I MEAN FOR IT TO BE A JOKE. IT SOUNDS LIKE A PLEA. MY KNEES WOBBLE WHEN SHE STEPS FORWARD AND PUTS HER OPAL NAILS ON THE BRASS BUTTON OF MY SHORTS. HER BREATH GHOSTS ACROSS MY TEMPLE AS SHE WHISPERS, “YES.” I DON’T TAKE MY TOP OFF. I KEEP THE BLACK STRAPS HUNG LOOSE ACROSS MY SHOULDERS AS LACY’S LIPS TRACE THE EDGE OF MY BROW TO THE SLOPE OF MY NOSE TO THE CURVE OF MY MOUTH. AND THEN SHE’S KISSING ME. REALLY KISSING ME. WITH SOFT LIPS AND A SLICK TONGUE. AND EVERYTHING IS BERRY. MY PANTIES AREN’T LACE BUT A DARK SATIN. I BOUGHT THEM THREE YEARS AGO FROM THE VICTORIA’S SECRET SEMI-ANNUAL SALE. I BOUGHT THEM WHILE PICTURING ROUGH, CALLUSED HANDS AND PRICKLY STUBBLE. BECAUSE THAT’S WHAT I WAS SUPPOSED TO WANT. THAT’S WHO I WAS SUPPOSED TO LET SEE ME THIS WAY. BARE AND NAKED AND VULNERABLE. I BOUGHT THEM WITH A MAN IN MIND. BUT INSTEAD OF RUGGED AND SCRATCHY, I GET LACY. LACY— WITH HER BERRY LIPS AND SHORT NAILS AND PALE LASHES AND SOFT EYES. LACY. LACY. LACY. LACY. THE ANSWER TO THE QUESTION I NEVER DARED ASK MYSELF.

UNTIL NOW.

OLD DEVIL MOON FRANKLYN S. NEWTON

TW: REFERENCES TO PAST VIOLENCE AND SELF HARM

THE NIGHT WAS A COMPLETE BUST, AT LEAST TO BEGIN. AFTER A QUICK, UNBALANCED DASH ON HER NEW HEELS FROM THE TUBE STATION TO THE BAR, TAMARA STOOD ALL ALONE IN THE UNFAMILIAR VENUE. SHE GLANCED AROUND FOR ANYONE SHE RECOGNISED, TO NO AVAIL AND CHECKED THE CLOCK BEHIND THE BAR AGAINST HER SLIM SILVER WATCH. EARLY. THE GIRLS FROM THE OFFICE WOULDN’T BE HERE FOR ANOTHER THIRTY MINUTES OR SO. TAM SHIFTED UNCOMFORTABLY ON HER FEET, HER SHOES WERE CUTTING INTO HER HEELS, THREATENING TO LEAVE A NASTY BLISTER. THE DARK VELVET DRESS SHE’D WORN IN THE HOPE OF FITTING IN, LEFT HER FEELING EXPOSED AND KEEN TO LEAVE BEFORE SHE CAUGHT ANYONE’S ATTENTION. BUT STILL, IT SEEMED A PITY TO WASTE A JOURNEY THIS FAR ACROSS LONDON, SO TAM WAITED BY THE BAR TO LET HER CLOTHES DRY, NURSING AN OVERPRICED VODKA TONIC. THOUGH THE BAR LIGHTING WAS LOW AND MOODY, SHE COULD IMAGINE THE CLIENTELE LOOKING HER OVER, SPOTTING THE WAYS IN WHICH SHE DIDN’T BELONG AND SHE EXPECTED TO BE IMMINENTLY KICKED OUT. BUT NO SUCH THING OCCURRED. AROUND HER PEOPLE WORE CLOTHES THAT WOULD COST HER A YEAR’S SALARY, BUT NOT IN THE WAY SHE’D WITNESSED THE NEWLY RICH STOCKBROKERS OF THE CITY THROW IT AROUND. EVERYTHING WAS SLEEK, TAILORED; THE CLOTHES, THE PEOPLE, EVEN THEIR BEHAVIOUR WAS POLITE. NO ONE PRESSED UP AGAINST HER, TRYING TO COP A FEEL. EVEN THE SOFT LOW MUSIC WAS AN ACCOMPANIMENT TO THE SURROUNDING CONVERSATIONS RATHER THAN SUFFOCATING IT IN THE DIN. ALL IN ALL A PLEASANT PLACE TO SHELTER FROM THE WEATHER, IF EXPENSIVE. AS HER DRINK RAN DRY, A SLIM WEDGE OF LIME ALL THAT REMAINED, TAMARA FINALLY CONCEDED THAT HER SO-CALLED WORK FRIENDS HAD LEFT HER IN THE LURCH. SHE SHOULD HAVE GUESSED. PERHAPS THEY WERE JUST MESSING WITH THE NEW GIRL IN THE OFFICE POOL. LURING HER OUT TO STAND BY HERSELF LIKE A FOOL WAS ALMOST AS UNCOMFORTABLE AS HER BOSS’ BUDDIES LEAVING OBSCENE DOODLES IN HER DIARY. ALMOST. TIME TO LOOK FOR SOMEWHERE ELSE, AGAIN. TAM HUFFED AND PREPARED TO LEAVE, TO BRAVE THE COLD AND THE NIGHT TRAIN HOME, WHEN THE MAN NEXT TO HER CAUGHT HER ATTENTION. SO ENGULFED IN HER OWN BUBBLE SHE’D NOT NOTICED HIM APPEAR, BUT HE WAS STRIKING TO SAY THE LEAST. HE HAD THE TAN OF SOMEONE WHO SPENT THE COLDER MONTHS FOLLOWING THE SUN, HIS BROAD CHEST HUGGED BY A DEEP PLUM SHIRT LEFT CASUALLY OPEN AT THE NECK.

THE LOW ROLLING PURR AS HE ORDERED HIS DRINK CUT DIRECTLY TO THE LIZARD PART OF HER BRAIN AND, NOTICING HER STARE, HE LEANED AGAINST THE BAR. HIS HAZEL EYES WERE A PICTURE OF PURE WANT, A MAN WHO’D FOUND THE CURE FOR AN UNSLAKABLE THIRST. “I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU BEFORE, SWEET THING.” HE WORE A GRIN SO CHARMING THAT SHE COULDN’T HELP BUT SMILE BACK. “I HAVEN’T SEEN YOU EITHER.” SHE DIDN’T MEAN TO SOUND SO ABRASIVE, BUT UP UNTIL THAT MOMENT, THE NIGHT HAD PREPARED HER FOR IT. HE LAUGHED, CROW’S FEET IN THE CORNERS OF HIS EYES CREASING WITH DELIGHT. HE WAS OLDER, THOUGH SHE WASN’T SURE HOW MUCH; HIS JAW LENGTH DARK HAIR SHOWED FEW SIGNS OF GREY BUT THAT MEANT LITTLE WHEN PEOPLE COULD SO EASILY DYE IT THESE DAYS. BESIDES, HE WAS HANDSOME ALL THE SAME. “ARE YOU WAITING FOR SOMEONE?” HE CAST HIS GAZE ACROSS THE BAR AND TOOK A DRINK, CONFIDENT ENOUGH TO GIVE HER AN ESCAPE ROUTE IT SEEMED. SHE MOVED CLOSER, PULLED INTO HIS ORBIT. PERHAPS THE NIGHT WOULD BE INTERESTING AFTER ALL. “NOT ANYMORE.” “ME EITHER.” HE SMILED AND NODDED TOWARD HER GLASS, EMPTY ASIDE FROM A SLOWLY SHRINKING ICE CUBE. “CAN YOU GET YOU SOMETHING?” “OH, UH… MIDORI SOUR, PLEASE.” SHE TRIED HER BEST NOT TO SAY IT LIKE SHE WAS ASKING PERMISSION. IF HE WAS PAYING SHE MAY AS WELL GET SOMETHING NICE. “QUITE THE SWEET TOOTH YOU HAVE THERE.” HE WAVED DOWN THE BARTENDER AND ORDERED TWO, WATCHING THE VISCOUS GREEN LIQUEUR POUR INTO THE GLASSES, TART LEMON TO BALANCE THE SWEET MELON. TAM SIPPED POLITELY AS HE ASKED WHAT SHE DID FOR A LIVING, CONSCIOUS SHE HAD A HABIT OF KNOCKING BACK DRINKS WHEN SHE WAS NERVOUS. SHE GAVE HER USUAL HALFHEARTED SPIEL; NO ONE WAS EVER THAT INTERESTED. OFFICE PA WAS ONE OF THOSE JOBS EVEN LESS EXCITING THAN IT SOUNDED, BOOKING BUSINESS CLASS TICKETS FOR HER YUPPIE BOSSES. SHE’D NEVER BEEN ABLE TO GO OF COURSE, HER WAGES NEVER SEEMED TO STRETCH QUITE THAT FAR, LEFT BEHIND TO KEEP SOMEONE ELSE’S SCHEDULE. NONETHELESS HE LISTENED CLOSELY, EVEN AS SHE COULD FEEL HERSELF TALKING FOR TOO LONG.

HER PARENTS SAID SHE WOULD NEVER FIND A HUSBAND BY TALKING SO MUCH, AND SHE WAS GETTING DANGEROUSLY CLOSE TO THIRTY. TICK TOCK. SO THEY SAID. “AND WHAT ABOUT YOU?” HE WORE A SINGLE DIAMOND IN HIS EAR THAT SPARKLED AS HE SPOKE. “WHAT ABOUT ME?” EXPERIENCE HAD TOLD HER NOT TO EXPECT FOLLOW UP QUESTIONS. “WHERE WOULD YOU TRAVEL? GIVEN MONEY WAS NO OBJECT.” “I NEVER THOUGHT ABOUT IT. AS FAR FROM HERE AS POSSIBLE. SOMEWHERE WARM, DRY AND NOT…” SHE REMEMBERED HOW IT HAD BEGUN TO RAIN ON THE WALK FROM THE UNDERGROUND, THE HUMID CLING OF THE AIR. “DAMP.” “SUN WORSHIPPER, HM? I’M THE SAME.” HE PRESSED IN A LITTLE CLOSER, HIS HAND RESTING COMFORTABLY ON HER HIP. “YOU’D LOOK RIGHT AT HOME ON THE BEACH, SUNNING YOURSELF. MAYBE WE’LL BUMP INTO EACH OTHER ONE DAY, ON SOME SUNDRENCHED LITTLE ISLAND.” TAM BIT HER TONGUE NOT TO SAY QUITE HOW MUCH SHE’D LIKE THAT, NOT TO SOUND TOO DESPERATE. SHE WAS UNATTACHED ASIDE FROM A FEW INADVISABLE DALLIANCES, HALTING TENTATIVE FLIRTATIONS WITH FELLOW OFFICE GIRLS AND BLIND DATES WITH GUYS WHO HUFFED IF SHE WANTED AN ORGASM. UNSATISFYING INTERLUDES THAT WENT NOWHERE. SUCH A DRAG. MAYBE THIS WOULD BE DIFFERENT. PART OF HER HAD JUST WANTED TO TALK TO SOMEONE TO MAKE THE EVENING FEEL LESS OF A WASTE, BUT NOW SHE CRAVED THE CONTACT OF HIS BODY AGAINST HERS. HE SEEMED TO ENJOY IT WELL ENOUGH, QUICKLY GUIDING HER TOWARDS HIS WARMTH. A FEW DRINKS DEEP SHE KISSED HIM, A COMBINATION OF IMPULSE AND FEAR THE MOMENT WOULD PASS, AND SHE’D NEVER FIND HIM AGAIN. SURELY THE WORST HE COULD DO WAS SAY NO? HIS LIPS WERE SOFT, WELL PRACTISED, FRAMED WITH A CAREFULLY TRIMMED BEARD, JUST BEYOND A FIVE O’ CLOCK SHADOW. AND HE DID MORE THAN KISS BACK. PASSION SWEPT OVER HIM; HIS HANDS EXPLORED HER FREELY, HER DRESS PUSHED UP HER THIGHS. “SUCH AN EXHIBITIONIST,” HE MURMURED THICKLY, THUMBING AT HER NIPPLE THROUGH THE DARK FABRIC OF HER DRESS. IT FELT ALMOST OBSCENE IN HIS HANDS. “BEING COOPED UP IN AN OFFICE ALL WEEK HAS YOU PENT UP. I THINK YOU NEED TO RELAX.”

“AND YOU’RE THE ONE TO VOLUNTEER?” “GLAD TO. I LIVE CLOSE BY, A FEW MINUTES IN A CAB.” HE PLAYED WITH HER HAIR, A SHORT GAMINE STYLE SHE HAD PICKED UP AFTER WATCHING TOO MANY FRENCH FILMS. “WHAT DO YOU SAY, SUGAR? CAN I TEMPT YOU?” HIS APARTMENT WASN’T QUITE THE STERILE BACHELOR PAD TAM HAD EXPECTED. SHE SLIPPED OFF HER HEELS AS GRACEFULLY AS POSSIBLE, LOSING A FEW INCHES IN HEIGHT AS HER GRATEFUL FEET TOUCHED THE WARM, BARE, FLOORBOARDS. SHE LOOKED UP AT HIM, STILL ADJUSTING TO THE REALITY THAT THIS WAS REALLY HAPPENING; EVEN IN THE TAXI IT STILL FELT LIKE A DREAM, SOMETHING FROM A NOVEL. THE NARROW HALL GAVE WAY TO AN OPEN KITCHEN AND LIVING ROOM, DECORATED SPARINGLY BUT CLEARLY AT GREAT EXPENSE. PROMINENTLY FEATURED WAS THE VAST COLLECTION OF RECORDS AND BOOKS FILLING A WALL OF SHELVES, ACCOMPANIED BY A SLEEK, MODERN TURNTABLE IN THE CENTRE AND A WEIGHTY SET OF SPEAKERS BENEATH. “PICK SOME MUSIC IF YOU LIKE; I TRUST YOUR INSTINCTS.” SHE FELT HIS BREATH ON HER NECK AS HE TOOK HIS JACKET FROM HER SHOULDERS, SUPPRESSING THE URGE TO LEAN INTO HIM SO QUICKLY. THEY’D SPENT THE NIGHT TALKING ABOUT MUSIC, AND NOW SHE HAD THE CHANCE TO FLEX HER MUSCLES A LITTLE. A CHILDISH IMPULSE, BUT SHE FELT THE NEED TO IMPRESS, TO PROVE HERSELF. SHE WANDERED OVER TO THE RECORD PLAYER, KNELT NEXT TO THE LOW SHELVES, AND SPENT A FEW MINUTES FLICKING THROUGH HIS EXTENSIVE COLLECTION OF LPS, ORGANISED LOOSELY BY GENRE. TAM RECOGNISED A FEW AS IMPORTS, EXPENSIVE TOO, SO SHE WAS SURE TO TOUCH THEM CAREFULLY AS SHE READ THE TRACK LISTINGS BEFORE SELECTING ONE TO SUIT THE MOOD. THE COVER WAS A LITTLE WORN AT THE EDGES, BUT GOOD CONDITION CONSIDERING IT WAS EASILY A DECADE OR SO OLDER THAN HER. THE DISC INSIDE WAS PRISTINE, BARELY A MOTE OF DUST CLINGING TO THE SURFACE, AND IF SHE REMEMBERED RIGHT THE MUSIC WAS WARM, AND A LITTLE ROMANTIC. JUST WHAT SHE WANTED, AND PERHAPS HE WOULD TOO. SHE OPENED THE TURNTABLE LID AND PRESSED PLAY, SURE OF HER SELECTION. THE CLICK OF THE NEEDLE DROP FILLED HER WITH CAUTIOUS ANTICIPATION, HOPEFUL HE WOULD LIKE HER PICK, AND WHERE IT COULD LEAD. “GOOD CHOICE.” HE HUMMED ALONG TO THE FIRST FEW BARS AS THEY FILLED THE ROOM. “WAS THAT A TEST?” HE LAUGHED, ALMOST A CACKLE.

“THAT WASN’T MY INTENTION BUT I’D SAY YOU PASSED. IT’S ONE OF MY FAVOURITES.” “BET YOU SAY THAT TO EVERY GIRL YOU BRING HERE.” SHE FELT VERY AWARE OF HIS GAZE AS SHE STOOD, THE WAY HER DRESS TOUCHED HER BODY, BRUSHED HER CHEST AND THIGHS AS SHE MOVED. “IT’S ONE OF MINE TOO, ACTUALLY.” “THEN YOU HAVE GOOD TASTE.” HER ATTENTION TURNED TO THE BRIGHTLY COLOURED CRACKED SPINES ON THE BOOK SHELVES ABOVE THE RECORDS, ORGANISED BY THE AUTHOR’S LAST NAME REGARDLESS OF GENRE. TRASHY AIRPORT THRILLERS, BODICE-RIPPER ROMANCES, A LITTLE SCIENCE FICTION, IT SEEMED HE READ VERY BROADLY. WHAT MIGHT HIS FAVOURITE BE? “THAT’S QUITE THE COLLECTION YOU’VE GOT. OF BOOKS I MEAN.” “SUPPOSE IT IS, MY TASTE IS FAIRLY CATHOLIC AS YOU CAN SEE THERE. I’D PICK ONE UP WHENEVER I HAD TO TRAVEL FOR WORK, AND IT JUST BUILT UP OVER THE YEARS.” THE COFFEE MACHINE GRUMBLED, PRESSING PAUSE ON THEIR CONVERSATION WHILST HE MEASURED OUT GROUNDS FOR ESPRESSO. “KEPT ME OCCUPIED ON LONG FLIGHTS, CAN’T EXACTLY LOOK THROUGH THE WINDOW FOR HOURS AT A TIME, AND I’M NOT ONE FOR MAKING LIGHT CONVERSATION WITH STRANGERS.” EXCEPT FOR TONIGHT” SHE ADDED, STILL ADMIRING THE SHELF. ALL THOSE WINDOWS INTO OTHER WORLDS. “EXCEPT FOR TONIGHT.” “YOU MUST TRAVEL A LOT.” ONE BOOK PER TRIP AND A GOOD FEW SHELVES FULL MUST ADD UP TO A LOT OF FLIGHTS. BACK AND FORTH ACROSS THE WORLD. TAM HAD NEVER EVEN FLOWN. SHE SELECTED ONE WITH A PARTICULARLY THICK AND WELL-CRACKED SPINE FROM THE SHELF, CURIOUS TO SEE WHAT KIND OF A BOOK HE MUST HAVE REREAD MULTIPLE TIMES. IT WAS SO STRANGELY HEAVY FOR A PAPERBACK SHE ALMOST DROPPED IT, GASPING AS IT FELL OPEN IN HER HANDS. HER HEAD SNAPPED BACK TO THE MAN IN THE KITCHEN, SEEMINGLY UNAWARE OF HER DISCOVERY. TAM HAD NEVER SEEN A GUN UP CLOSE BEFORE, EVEN A LITTLE PISTOL LIKE THAT, AND BENEATH IT A COUPLE OF BRAND NEW PASSPORTS. SHE CLOSED THE BOOK AS QUIETLY AS POSSIBLE, CERTAIN SHE’D BEEN QUIET FOR TOO LONG.

LETTING OUT A SLOW BREATH, TAM SLIPPED IT BACK INTO PLACE, TRYING TO CALM HER RACING HEART. PART OF HER WANTED TO LEAVE THERE AND THEN, MAKE UP SOME EXCUSE, BUT HER FEET REFUSED TO MOVE. SHE COULD HAVE LAUGHED THEN; WAS SHE REALLY SO WORKED UP OVER SOMEONE SHE’D JUST MET? AND JUST WHAT WAS HE? “YOU’RE AWFULLY QUIET, SUGAR.” HE WAS WATCHING HER, EYEBROW COCKED. “SORRY, I - JUST DISTRACTED BY ALL THIS. IT’S SUCH A NICE PLACE. MUCH NICER THAN MY LITTLE FLAT SHARE.” TAM CROSSED THE LIVING ROOM AND HOPPED UP ONTO THE KITCHEN COUNTER NEXT TO HIM, IGNORING HOW HER DRESS SLID UP HER THIGHS, WHILST HE DISPENSED THEM BOTH AN ESPRESSO FROM THE MACHINE. SHE WATCHED CAREFULLY, TRYING TO MESH THE MAN SHE MET WITH WHAT SHE’D FOUND. DID HE SEEM DANGEROUS? IS IT REALLY POSSIBLE TO TELL? BRASH LOUDMOUTHS COULD BE SWEET AT HEART, AND THE MOST UNASSUMING OF GUYS COULD BE HIDING THE WORST INTENTIONS. SHE STILL DIDN’T KNOW HIS NAME, NOR DID HE KNOW HERS. “HAVEN’T SHARED A PLACE WITH ANYONE IN A LONG TIME.” AS HE REACHED OVER TO SWITCH OFF THE MACHINE, HIS WRIST SLID FROM HIS SLEEVE, EXPOSING A DARK BAND OF INK EMBEDDED INTO HIS SKIN. THE COFFEE SMELT GORGEOUS, LIKE DARK CHOCOLATE AND WINTER BERRIES SO SMOOTH IT MADE HER MOUTH WATER. “WHAT DID YOU SAY YOU DID FOR WORK?” “I DIDN’T ACTUALLY, AND I’M RETIRED.” HE DIDN’T LOOK OLD—WELL, NOT RETIRED OLD. PERHAPS FORTY- FIVE ON THE OUTSIDE. WHATEVER HE DID, IT MUST HAVE PAID WELL, SHE THOUGHT. HE PASSED ONE OF THE SMALL PORCELAIN CUPS TO HER, AND SIPPED HIS OWN, USING HIS FREE HAND TO SQUEEZE HER THIGH. HE HAD AN EASY SMILE, INFECTIOUS. “THAT’S NOT A PROBLEM IS IT? NOT TOO OLD FOR YOU?” “NOT AT ALL. I’M JUST GLAD YOU’RE NOT SOME BANK MANAGER, A YUPPIE OR SOMETHING. THE CITY’S CRAWLING WITH THEM. I THINK I’D HAVE TO LEAVE EVEN WITH YOUR RECORD COLLECTION BACK THERE.” SHE WAS ONLY HALF JOKING, GUYS LIKE THAT WERE MORE OFF-PUTTING THAN WHATEVER HER PRESENT COMPANY COULD HAVE DONE. HE BARKED A LAUGH, WARM AND RICH. “NOTHING LIKE THAT SUGAR, THOUGH I’VE MET A FEW. USUALLY JUST ONCE.”

THE CONVERSATION MOVED TO THE LIVING ROOM, RELOCATING TO A SNUG TWOSEATER NEXT TO THE RECORD PLAYER THAT FORCED THEM TO SIT CLOSE. “NO TV?” HE SHOOK HIS HEAD. “NEVER HAD ONE OF MY OWN, ONLY REALLY WATCHED IT IN HOTELS. NOT SURE I LIKE THE IDEA OF HAVING TO WAIT FOR SOMETHING, UNLESS IT’S SPECIAL.” HIS EYES FLICKERED TO HERS BRIEFLY THEN TO THE SHELVES OF BOOKS AND MUSIC. “I HAVE THOSE TO KEEP ME BUSY, AMONGST OTHER THINGS.” TAMARA BIT HER LIP, EXPECTING HIM TO ESCALATE RIGHT AWAY, BUT IT SEEMED HER COMMENT HAD PUT HIM IN A CONTEMPLATIVE MOOD, HIS ARM SETTLING AROUND HER WAIST. SHE LEANED INTO HIM, ALLOWING HIS HAND TO FIND A COMFORTABLE SPOT ON HER HIP AS SHE DRANK. THE DARK FRUIT FLAVOUR COATED HER MOUTH AND SHOOK OFF ANY SLEEPINESS SHE FELT, AND SHE HOPED SHE’D NEED THE ENERGY. THIS CLOSE, HIS COLOGNE SEEMED TO SURROUND HER, AND WITHOUT THE MUDDLE OF OTHERS IN THE BAR IT WAS A LITTLE CLEARER STILL: WARM, COMFORTING, SEXY. IN COMBINATION WITH THE MUSIC, THE COLOUR IN HER CHEEKS ROSE AND SHE SUDDENLY FELT VERY AWARE OF THE SHORTNESS OF HER DRESS, THE BARENESS OF HER SKIN BENEATH, AND SO DID HE, BY THE WAY HE DRANK HER IN. HE PLACED HIS CUP DOWN ON THE LOW COFFEE TABLE WITH A CLINK, AND HOISTED HER ONTO HIS THIGH WITH EASE. “PETITE THING AREN’T YOU?” HE BEGAN TO LAP AT HER NECK, TEETH NIPPING AT HER THROAT. “I CAN JUST PICK YOU UP.” “AND WHERE WOULD YOU TAKE ME?” “I CAN THINK OF A FEW PLACES.” MAKING LIGHT WORK OF HER DRESS, HE CAST IT TO THE FLOOR TO ADMIRE WHAT HE’D ONLY FELT BEFORE. SHE FELT HER BODY FLUSH UNDER HIS GAZE, HIS TOUCH, AS HE LAZILY EXPLORED HER THIGHS, HIPS, CUPPING HER TITS. HE TOOK A QUICKLY HARDENING NIPPLE BETWEEN HIS TEETH, SUCKING GENTLY. “MAY I?” SHE TUGGED AND PLAYED WITH HIS SHIRT, PLUCKING THE BUTTONS OPEN. HE BIT A LITTLE HARDER IN RESPONSE, SHRUGGING HIS SHIRT OFF. “OH, YOU’RE…” HER EYES WIDENED AT THE SIGHT BENEATH.

HE LOOKED UP AT HER AND GRINNED HUNGRILY, LICKING A STRIPE BETWEEN HER BREASTS. “YOU LIKE MY INK, SUGAR?” “IT’S SO INTRICATE, IT’S...” A DEEP, DARK PATTERN OF STORMY WAVES COVERED HIS CHEST AND FIRM STOMACH, THE LONG LITHE BODIES OF SEA SERPENTS APPEARING AT INTERVALS, A MOUTH OF SNARLING TEETH ON HIS RIGHT PEC. FROM COLLARBONE TO WRIST THERE WAS NOTHING UNADORNED BUT A THIN STRIP OF CLEAR SKIN IN THE MIDDLE THAT DISAPPEARED BELOW THE BELT. SHE’D SEEN FLASHES OF IT THROUGHOUT THE NIGHT, IN THE SHADOWS OF HIS OPEN COLLAR, ON HIS WRISTS BUT IT WAS STILL FAR MORE THAN SHE COULD HAVE IMAGINED. “DID IT HURT?” SHE SAID, FEELING FOOLISH EVEN AS SHE ASKED. “NOT AS MUCH AS YOU’D THINK.” HE CONTINUED GRAZING HIS TEETH ON HER NECK, VOICE TINGED WITH AMUSEMENT. THIS SHOULDN’T BE SUCH A TURN ON, THE IDEA OF WHAT HE WAS. HER MIND RACED WITH IDEAS, WITH THE FEELING SHE WAS ON THE PRECIPICE OF A WHOLE OTHER WORLD, COURTING DEATH. BUT THAT WASN’T ALL. WOVEN INTO THE INK, A MULTITUDE OF SCARS PEPPERED HIS TORSO AND ARMS, RAISED LINES AND DIVOTS LIKE…WELL, SHE DIDN’T KNOW WHAT A BULLET WOUND LOOKED LIKE REALLY, BUT IT LOOKED HOW SHE GUESSED. SHE DREW THE TIP OF HER FINGER ALONG THE PALE THREAD OF A SCAR. “AND ALL THIS IS…” “A LIFE LIVED DANGEROUSLY.” HE PRESSED HER HAND TO HIS CHEST TO DEMONSTRATE THE STRONG THRUM OF A HEARTBEAT WITHIN. “BUT I’M STILL HERE.” “SORRY, I SHOULDN’T PRY.” SHE BECAME VERY AWARE OF HER OWN SCARS, UNIFORM LINES ON HER HIP AND THIGH SHE FOUND HERSELF STUMBLING TO EXPLAIN AWAY WHENEVER THEY WERE SEEN. HAD HE NOTICED? HE MUST HAVE, SURELY. DID HE CARE? “YOU’RE CURIOUS, IT’S CUTE.” HE TASTED LIKE WHISKEY AND COFFEE, HIS TONGUE SOFT AND WARM. “IT WAS A DIFFERENT LIFE.” SHE RAN A FINGER OVER THE SLIVER OF SKIN LEFT UNMARKED, DARK CHEST HAIR LEADING HER EYE DOWN TO THE THICK BULGE IN HIS PANTS. “HOW FAR DOWN DO ALL THESE GO?” “ALL THE WAY.” HE GRINNED HUNGRILY, TIGHTENING HIS GRIP AROUND HER WAIST. “WANT TO SEE?”

SHE BIT HER LIP AND NODDED, FIDDLING WITH HIS BELT BUCKLE, FINGERS BRUSHING HIS COCK THROUGH HIS BOXERS, AND SLIDING THEM DOWN WITH HIS PANTS. “YOU GOT A THING FOR TATTED GUYS, SWEET THING? A LOT OF PEOPLE DO.” “NO, I…” TAM REFUSED ON IMPULSE, BUT IT WAS HARD NOT TO ADMIRE THE WAY THE SINGLE CONTINUOUS IMAGE FLOWED ACROSS THIS BODY, DOWN HIS THICK THIGHS, AROUND TO HIS ASS, FRAMING HIS BARE COCK, FLUSHED AND FULL… “MAYBE.” “IT DOESN’T BOTHER ME, WORKS WONDERS FOR MY EGO.” HIS HAND SLID UP HER DELICATE INNER THIGH, STROKING HER CLIT THROUGH HER LACE UNDERWEAR. “SO EXCITED ALREADY… LIE DOWN FOR ME, HMM?” “SURE.” SHE SAT BACK, TRYING NOT TO FIXATE ON HIS COCK, SO INVITINGLY SLICK AT THE TIP IT MADE HER MOUTH WATER. HE MUST HAVE NOTICED HER STARE BECAUSE HE PUSHED HER BACK WITH A GRIN. “NOT SO FAST, I WANT A TASTE.” HE DUCKED DOWN BETWEEN HER THIGHS, NIPPING AT THE DELICATE SKIN AS HE MADE HIS WAY UP. THE MUSIC ROSE AND FELL AS HE KISSED AND PROBED HER PUSSY WITH HIS TONGUE, REACHING FOR THAT SWEET SPOT. “YOU’RE SO GOOD, BABY.” HIS FINGERS SLID IN FURTHER, PULLING HER UNDERWEAR ASIDE SO HE COULD TASTE HER MORE FREELY. SHE MOANED AND BUCKED HER HIPS, NEEDY FOR MORE. “GOING HOME WITH STRANGERS CAN BE DANGEROUS, YOU KNOW.” HIS VOICE TOOK ON A DEVILISH SNARL AS HE PINCHED HER CLIT, KEEPING JUST ON THE RIGHT SIDE OF PAINFUL. SHE CLENCHED TIGHTLY AROUND HIS FINGERS, WORKING HERSELF CLOSER TO COMING. “ANYTHING COULD HAPPEN.” “LIKE, LIKE BEING FELT UP BY SOME OLD GANGSTER?” SHE TOOK A STAB AT GUESSING HIS PAST, SOMETHING DIFFERENT, SOMETHING DANGEROUS. “GANGSTER HUH?” HE LOOKED UP AT HER, EYES HALF LIDDED. “SUCH A CURIOUS GIRL…” IMPULSE TOOK HER AND BOLDLY SHE PRESSED HIS HEAD BACK DOWN, TO WHICH HE HAPPILY OBLIGED.

“I DON’T EVEN KNOW YOUR NAME.” SHE STAMMERED AS HE LICKED GREEDILY, HOLDING HER THIGHS OPEN AGAINST HER REFLEXIVE WRIGGLING. “CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT.” HIS VOICE LOW AND HONEY SWEET, LIPS SLICK WITH HER WETNESS. SOMETHING SPRANG TO MIND, SOMETHING SHE CRAVED, BUT IMMEDIATELY SHAME WASHED OVER HER, STILLING HER TONGUE BEFORE SHE COULD SPEAK. YOU THOUGHT OF SOMETHING DIDN’T YOU?” HIS EYES NARROWED, “SOMETHING DIRTY.” “I…” SHE NODDED WEAKLY, FEELING LIGHTHEADED. “YEAH...”

“TELL ME BABY. I WANT TO HEAR IT FROM YOU.” “DADDY…” HER VOICE A QUIVERING WHISPER, “DADDY PLEASE.” “OH SUGAR, YOU GOT A FILTHY MOUTH.” HE SAT UP, LAZILY RUBBING HIS HARDENED COCK. “I OUGHT TO WASH IT OUT.” “I…” TAM SAT UP, OR TRIED TO; HER TREMBLING ARMS MADE HER CLUMSY, MUCH TO HIS AMUSEMENT. WITH A SECOND TO REGAIN HER BALANCE SHE KNELT ON THE SEAT, LIPS PARTED. SHE RETOUCHED HER HAIR, CONSCIOUS OF HOW DISHEVELLED SHE MUST LOOK AND DUCKED DOWN, LETTING HER TONGUE ROLL OVER THE TIP, TASTING SALT. HE LET OUT A DEEP, SENSUAL MOAN, HUSKY AND THICK AS SHE WORKED HER WAY DOWN, SLOWLY, SURELY. TAMARA FELT HIS HAND CLASP THE NAPE OF HER NECK, PRESSING DOWN JUST ENOUGH TO LET HER KNOW WHAT HE WANTED. MORE. SHE RELAXED HER JAW, LIPS BECOMING SLICK, IN PART WANTING TO PLEASE HIM, BUT MORE THAN ANYTHING ELSE SHE CRAVED THE FULLNESS OF HIM. FINDING A COMFORTABLE PACE, SHE FELT MORE CONFIDENT AND SQUEEZED THE BASE OF HIS COCK, AND DRANK IN HIS INCOHERENT MURMURINGS, TOUCHING HERSELF WITH HER FREE HAND, SO SLICK SHE WAS ALMOST DRIPPING. “CAREFUL PRINCESS, YOU’RE GONNA MAKE ME COME ALREADY.” HE PULLED OUT AND LIFTED HER HEAD UP, SLIPPING A THUMB BETWEEN HER OPEN LIPS. “AND WE’RE NOT DONE YET, ARE WE?”

SHE HUMMED INCOHERENTLY AROUND HIS THUMB, HALFWAY BETWEEN A WHINE AND A MOAN. “WHAT’S NEXT, BABY?” THE SOFA SUDDENLY FELT TOO NARROW, UNBALANCED, SO TAM MOVED ONTO THE FLOOR IN THE HOPES HE WOULD FOLLOW. BENEATH HER, THE HARDWOOD FLOOR WAS STRANGELY COMFORTABLE, WARM AGAINST HER BACK AS SHE BARED HERSELF TO HIM. “YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT, DADDY.” THE SLICK TIP OF HIS COCK SLID INTO HER, LET OUT A SQUEAK OF PLEASURE AND PULLED HIM CLOSE, WRAPPING HER LEGS AROUND HIS WAIST. HIS WARMTH RADIATED INTO HER WITH EACH THRUST OF HIS HIPS, FUCKING HER SLOW AT FIRST AND FINDING HIS PACE AS SHE RELAXED, ALLOWING THE FULL THICKNESS OF HIM TO FILL HER TO THE HILT. HE TUGGED AT A NIPPLE WITH HIS TEETH UNTIL SHE GASPED, KISSING HER AS IF TO CAPTURE IT, STIFLING HER MOANS. “YOU FEEL SO GOOD, PRINCESS.” HIS VOICE WAS TIGHT, LIKE HE WAS GETTING CLOSE, THE PACE OF HIS THRUSTS BECOMING ERRATIC, SKIN SLAPPING ON SKIN. “FUCK, HARDER. PLEASE.” SHE ARCHED HER BACK IN DESPERATION FOR MORE. HE HELD HER WRISTS ABOVE HER HEAD, EASILY HOLDING BOTH FIRMLY IN ONE HAND. SHE’D NEVER FELT ANYTHING LIKE IT; EVEN IF HE WAS DANGEROUS, SHE DIDN’T CARE. HE GROANED AND PULLED OUT JUST AS HE SPILLED OVER ONTO HER, HAIR PLASTERED TO HIS FACE. HE TOYED AND TEASED HER SLICK CLIT UNTIL SHE SHOOK IN WAVES, TEARS IN HER EYES. HE KISSED HER AS SHE CAME, WHIMPERING WEAKLY AGAINST HIS LIPS. “SATISFIED?” SHE NODDED, FACE STILL BURIED IN HIS NECK, HER MIND A MUDDLE OF TREMBLING ECSTASY. THE SONG FADED INTO NOTHINGNESS AND HER HEART FINALLY BEGAN TO CALM, THEIR SKIN KISSING WITH THE TOUCH OF PERSPIRATION. “THOUGHT SO.” HE CHUCKLED AND PICKED HER UP WITH THE SAME SURPRISING EASE AS BEFORE, CARRYING HER THROUGH TO THE BEDROOM THEY’D NEGLECTED. THEY CROSSED THE THRESHOLD INTO A LUSH DEEP RED BEDROOM AND LAID HER DOWN ON THE SOFT SHEETS.

“IT’S MORE COMFORTABLE HERE. BETTER LATE THAN NEVER, YEAH?” “A LITTLE LATE TO DO THE DECENT THING, DON’T YOU THINK?” HE HUMMED AND SAT HER ON HIS LAP, HIS LEGS STRETCHED OUT SO SHE COULD ADMIRE THE TATTOOS THAT WRAPPED ALL THE WAY DOWN TO HIS CALVES. “NOTHING DECENT ABOUT YOU, BABY. THE MOUTH ON YOU, OUGHT TO SPANK YOU FOR THAT.” “MAYBE YOU SHOULD.” SHE SHIFTED HER HIPS. “WHAT WAS THAT YOU CALLED ME?” “PRINCESS.” HIS VOICE SO HONEY SWEET IT MADE HER FLUSH DESPITE HER EXHAUSTION; SHE COULD LISTEN TO HIM ALL DAY. “JUST SOUNDED GOOD TO ME.” “I COULD BE A PRINCESS, FOR YOU.” SHE TURNED AND STRADDLED HIS WAIST, HIS SOFTENING COCK PRESSED AGAINST HER BELLY. “CAN I STAY THE NIGHT?” “WITH A DIRTY OLD GANGSTER LIKE ME? YOU SURE IT’S SAFE?” HE LAUGHED AT HER EXPRESSION AND KISSED HER FOREHEAD. “YEAH. YOU CAN STAY.” FOR THE FIRST TIME ALL NIGHT, HER CONFIDENCE BEGAN TO WAVER. IN ALL HONESTY, SHE HADN‘T EXPECTED HIM TO SAY YES. “SOMETIMES I GET NIGHTMARES, I MIGHT WAKE YOU UP.” SHE LOOKED UP AT HIM NERVOUSLY, DRAWING A LINE ALONG HIS COLLARBONE, THE VERY EDGE OF HIS INK. SURELY A GUY LIKE THAT WOULDN’T HAVE MUCH TOLERANCE FOR WEAKNESS, OR ANNOYANCE. “THAT AIN’T A PROBLEM, I DON’T SLEEP TOO MUCH ANYWAY.” HIS VOICE HAD SOFTENED IN A POST ORGASMIC HAZE, HE PULLED HER BACK INTO HIS EMBRACE. “AND IF YOU WAKE UP, I’LL TIRE YOU OUT.” HE TILTED HER CHIN AND THEY KISSED LAZILY, HIS TONGUE STILL SWEET WITH HER TASTE. “I’D LIKE THAT.” “HOW ABOUT A NIGHTCAP? YOU LIKE BRANDY?” “SURE, JUST A LITTLE.” SHE BIT HER LIP AS SHE WATCHED HIM LEAVE, ADMIRING THE WAY THE INK ON HIS BACK MOVED WITH HIM, WAVES CRASHING AGAINST HIS SKIN. SHE LOOKED AROUND THE BEDROOM, LISTENING TO GLASS CLINKING IN THE KITCHEN, THE CHARACTERISTIC SOUND OF A BOTTLE STOPPER.

EVERYTHING WAS BEAUTIFUL, THE SHEETS SOFT AND COOL AS SHE PULLED THEM AROUND THEM, THE ROOM PROJECTING A SORT OF LUXURY SHE’D NEVER EXPERIENCED BEFORE. DESPITE THIS THE BEDROOM FELT ODDLY BARE, ALMOST LONELY IN A WAY THAT SHE COULDN’T PUT HER FINGER ON AT FIRST. NO PICTURES OF FRIENDS OR FAMILY, NOTHING PERSONAL, EVERYTHING SEEMED SO NEW. NONE OF THE FURNITURE LOOKED OLDER THAN A FEW YEARS, NOTHING LEFT BY AN EX, JUST CLEAN LINES AND A TIDY APARTMENT. “SORRY TO KEEP YOU WAITING.” AS HE ENTERED THE ROOM, THE RECORD PLAYER CLICKED BACK INTO LIFE, HE’D CHANGED THE RECORD. “I WARMED IT A LITTLE.” “THANK YOU,” TAM SAID AS SHE TOOK THE WARM ROUND GLASS IN BOTH HANDS, AND WATCHED HIM SIT BACK AGAINST THE HEADBOARD. “DO YOU GET LONELY?” “BOLD AREN’T YOU, PRINCESS?” HE LOOKED DEEP INTO HER EYES, SEARCHING FOR SOMETHING. TRUST, SHE HOPED. SUDDENLY HE LOOKED A LOT OLDER, THE FIRE IN HIS EYES REDUCED TO LOW EMBERS. “YOU FOUND SOMETHING, DIDN’T YOU?” HER STOMACH DROPPED, SHE WANTED TO SPEAK BUT SHE STUMBLED OVER THE WORDS. “FUCK, I’M SORRY, I-” “IT’S ALRIGHT.” HE SHOOK HIS HEAD AND SMILED, PUTTING HIS OWN GLASS DOWN AND RUNNING A HAND THROUGH HIS HAIR. “MY FAULT REALLY. I DON’T USUALLY INVITE PEOPLE HOME, MUST HAVE GIVEN YOU A FRIGHT.” “I DON’T SCARE THAT EASILY.” SHE IGNORED THAT SHE’D NEARLY DROPPED HIS STASH IN SHOCK, BUT STILL SHE FELT NO FEAR FOR HER OWN SAFETY. “I’M SURE YOU DON’T, PRINCESS.” HE STARED INTO THE DEEP AMBER OF HIS DRINK. “YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW?” TAMARA NODDED, “I DO.” “I WAS A FIXER OF SORTS FOR… WELL, I GUESS IT DOESN’T MATTER NOW. IT WAS DIRTY WORK AND I WAS GOOD AT IT. BUT I GOT OLD. RELATIVELY SPEAKING.” “THEN EACH OF THOSE BOOKS…” THERE MUST HAVE BEEN A HUNDRED OR SO IN TOTAL. “WAS A JOB, MORE OR LESS.” HE TOOK A FINAL SLUG OF HIS DRINK AND PLACED THE GLASS ON THE BEDSIDE TABLE WITH A CLINK. “LIKE I SAID, I WAS GOOD.”

A STRANGE THOUGHT ENTERED HER MIND. WAS HE AFTER HER? WAS SHE IMPORTANT ENOUGH? “BUT YOU RETIRED, RIGHT?” THERE WAS A PREGNANT PAUSE, HIS EYES GLAZING OVER FOR A SECOND LIKE POLISHED GLASS. “YEAH. I GOT OUT.” SOME OF HIS SCARS WERE MORE RECENT THAN OTHERS, CARVED DEEPER THAN OTHERS. “BETTER TO RETIRE THAN BE RETIRED BY SOMEONE ELSE.” “LIKE AN OLD DOG.” “YEAH, THAT’S ME.” HE SCOFFED AT HER BLUNTNESS, BUT HE DIDN’T DISAGREE. “LOST A LOT OF FRIENDS THAT WAY.” TAM CRINGED - ALWAYS SAYING THE WRONG THING. “I’M SORRY.” “COMES WITH THE TERRITORY. YOU TRY NOT TO FORM ATTACHMENTS, BUT...” HIS EYES FLICKERED DOWN TO THE OLD SCARS ON TAM‘S HIP, AND SHE FELT A RUSH OF SHAME, EMBARRASSMENT. SHE SHIFTED TO HIDE THEM BENEATH THE SHEETS. “IF ANYONE HURTS YOU, MAKES YOU FEEL THAT WAY, YOU TELL ME, ALRIGHT?”

“UH, SURE. WHAT DO YOU - ” “I MEAN IT.” HE SUDDENLY LOOKED QUITE SERIOUS, MORE SO THAN HE HAD ALL NIGHT. “I’LL DEAL WITH THEM.” “OKAY, SURE. I WILL.” TAMARA WASN’T SURE WHAT SORT OF DEAL SHE’D MADE, BUT FIGURED IT COULD BE FUN TO PUT THE FEAR OF GOD INTO THE BOYS AT THE OFFICE. SHE GAVE A LITTLE INVOLUNTARY LAUGH AT THE IDEA OF THOSE SLEAZES MEETING THEIR MATCH. “YOU’D LIKE TO DO THIS AGAIN I TAKE IT?” “VERY MUCH SO.” HE LEANED IN AND KISSED HER. WARM BRANDY TASTE. “IF YOU’LL HAVE ME.” “WELL, THEN YOU SHOULD KNOW MY NAME’S TAM. TAMARA. JUST ANYTHING BUT TAMMY, OKAY?” “IT’S PERFECT. A NAME FOR A PRINCESS.” HIS SMILE RETURNED, HIS MOOD LIFTED AND HE HOISTED HER BACK ONTO HIS LAP, PRESSING HIS NOSE CLOSE TO HER EAR, VOICE LOW AND GENTLE. “TAMARA.”

“AND WHAT ABOUT YOU? CAN’T CALL YOU DADDY ALL THE TIME.” HER CHEEKS WARMED JUST SAYING IT AGAIN. “I SUPPOSE NOT, MUCH AS I’D LIKE IT. YOU CAN CALL ME JOHAN, HM?” TAM GOT THE FEELING HE’D CHOSEN IT ON THE SPOT FROM THE WAY HE PAUSED. PERHAPS IT WAS JUST FOR HER, A GIFT OF SORTS. “JOHAN.” SHE REPEATED SOFTLY, SHE LIKED THE SHAPE OF THE NAME. “DO YOU EVER MISS IT? YOUR OLD LIFE?” TAM COULDN’T HELP HERSELF. SHE WANTED TO KNOW EVERYTHING THERE WAS TO KNOW ABOUT HIM AND TO HEAR HIM SPEAK IT, TO FALL ASLEEP TO HIS VOICE. “YOU KNOW, SOMETIMES I DO THINK ABOUT IT.” JOHAN CHUCKLED AND PULLED HER CLOSE, THE WAVES INKED INTO HIS ARMS SUBMERGING HER IN WARMTH. “BUT NO, NOT TONIGHT.”

CAMERA EYE M.D. BAKER

CAMERA 1 THE BODIES WRITHE. THEY SIT UPRIGHT ON CUSHIONS, FEELING, CARESSING. FLESH ON FLESH, THEIR SKIN PULLING THE HEAT FROM THEIR HEARTS AND SLATHERING IT OVER ARMS AND LEGS AND LIPS AND BACKS. THE MALE’S BACKSIDE IS TIGHT AND LONG, ACCENTUATED WITH BULGING MUSCLE. THE FEMALE’S BREASTS ARE LARGE AND WELL-FORMED, SAT ATOP A SLENDER STOMACH AND JUTTING PELVIC BONES. THEY GRASP AT EACH OTHER’S GENITALS; THE MALE, OPEN PALMED, FINGERS TIGHT, DRAWING THEM INTO A SPADE, FLEXING IN AND OUT AND BACK AND FORTH; THE FEMALE, CLENCHED FIST, WHITE-KNUCKLED, PUMPING FAST AND SLOW AND UP AND DOWN. THE MALE’S HEAT PULSING IN THE FEMALE’S HAND, INCHING OUT, A RED HOT CYLINDER, A PISTON MOMENTS BEFORE THE PRESSURED STEAM RELEASE, A CONCUSSIVE FORCE SO STRONG IT BURSTS THROUGH WET FLESH; LIQUIDATED, AERATED, DEAD, AND WHITE WITH ASH. THE FEMALE’S HEAT RADIATES, FIXED ON A SINGLE POINT, A LOCUS OF ENERGY, SPREADING THROUGH THE BODY IN SMOOTH RIPPLES; MUSCLES UNDULATE, SHOCKWAVES STIMULATE THE SPINAL COLUMN; THE HEAT SWELLS, HER ENTIRE MATERIAL EXPANDS UNTIL ABOUT TO TEAR, TO SHATTER, SENDING GLIMPSES OF HERSELF ALL OVER THE INTERIOR. CHANGE POSITION. CAMERA 2 THE FACES BLOOM. GASPS FILL THEIR LUNGS; SHORT AND STRONG, DIZZY WITH BREATH AND ANTICIPATION; THEIR SKIN BUZZES. THE MALE PINS THE FEMALE TO THE SEAT BACKING. HIS FACE HOVERS OVER HERS; GLEAMING GREEN EYES STARE OVER A STRONG, RIGID NOSE, SHARP FEATURES, STRONG CHIN, AND OLIVE SKIN. BLUE EYES MEET HIS, LARGE AND GLEAMING, STEALING FROM THE SOFT, ROUNDED CHEEKS AND PETITE LIPS. THEY KISS AND HE ENTERS HER; THEY HEAVE. THE FACES CHANGE, ALMOST IMPERCEPTIBLY, A STEALTHY SHIFT OF FEATURES. THEIR BODIES FOLLOW SUIT, MORPHING WITHOUT DISCERNIBLE DISTORTION, CHANGING EVER SO SLIGHTLY UNTIL THEIR NEW HOSTS HAVE CONSUMED WHAT THEY ONCE WERE.

THE MALE’S SLENDER HIPS THRUST AND GYRATE, HIS SHOULDER BLADES STRETCHED PALE SKIN, ANGLED AND PRONOUNCED, THIN WRISTS GUIDE BLUE-VEINED HANDS TO THE FEMALE’S THROAT. HIS FINGERS SUNK INTO HER ONYX SKIN, OPAL EYES WIDENED, HER BACK BENT IN A SHARP ARCH, HER RIB CAGE MADE A CAVERN OF HER STOMACH AND HER SMALL, POINTED BREASTS FLOWED ACROSS HER CHEST. HER HAIR WAS A FRAZZLED OIL SLICK, AN AMALGAM OF MUDDLED GREENS AND BLUES AND MAGENTA SLIPPING ALONG MIDNIGHT CURLS, CASTING STREET LIGHT INTO THE STEEL BLUE EYES OF THE MALE, CATCHING HIS RHYTHM NOW, PANTING, SQUEEZING PLATE STEEL ABDOMINAL MUSCLES INTO ROUNDED, SMOOTH STONE. BODIES BLUR IN TINTED PASSENGER SIDE WINDOWS. NEW FLESH, CLOTHED IN SHIRTS AND SKIRTS AND BASEBALL CAPS, CLUTCHING COFFEE AND BACKPACKS, LEASHES AND BRIEFCASES. THEY DON’T NOTICE THE CARNIVAL IN THE BACKSEAT, THE JUBILEE BEGOTTEN BY SALIVA AND PERSPIRATION AND LUBRICATING FLUIDS. THEY’LL NEVER KNOW. CHANGE POSITION.

CAMERA 3 THE TONGUES CARESS. SHORTENING, ELONGATING, WIDENING, NARROWING, FITTING INTO EACH OTHER LIKE UNCTUOUS SPRINGS AND GEARS, THEY EXCHANGE FLUIDS. CLOSE UP. RIDGES AND PORES AND CRACKS AND HILLS. THE GEOGRAPHY OF SKIN AND HOW IT LAYS UPON BONE, BONES THAT SHIFT AND SHIMMY UNDER PULSATING MUSCLE. PIVOT TO FINGERNAILS, PAINTED AND DULL, PINK AND BROWN, KERATINOUS TOOLS USED TO BUILD BRIDGES BETWEEN PLEASURE AND PAIN. THEY’RE HAMMERING AWAY. PIVOT TO THE CORE OF THE THING. THE WHOLE ACT. THE REASON WE’RE HERE, WHY YOU’RE HERE, WHY YOU’RE WATCHING, WHY WE’RE ALL WATCHING. SO CLOSE IT SEEMS UNREAL, SEEMS FOREIGN, AN ALIEN THING, NEARLY VIOLENT IN ITS STRANGENESS. FLAPS OF SKIN SEPARATED AND CARESSED. GLANS AND PUBIC MOUNDS, CLITORIDES GROWING, PENETRATING WHERE TESTICLES ONCE WERE, SUCKED BACK INTO THE BODY, ABSORBED, CAVERNOUS, TIGHT AND NARROW. MOANING IN UNISON NOW, BREATHY, DEEP GRUNTS AND SULTRY YELPS COALESCE, VIBRATING TOGETHER, MEETING FREQUENCIES. THEY GASP TOGETHER, SWALLOWING EACH OTHER’S HEARTS. THE SOUNDS OF PUSH AND PLAY BOUNCE OFF FIBERGLASS AND STEEL. RACKET AND CELEBRATION, THE ORCHESTRA OF HUMAN EXPERIENCE.

WE HEAR WHAT WE WANT TO HEAR. WE KNOW WHAT WE WANT TO KNOW.WORLDS WITHIN WORLDS COASTING BY, PARTITIONED AND PLASTIC. CHANGE POSITION. CAMERA 4 THE HANDS GRASP. THE FEMALE CLASPS THE NARROW SHOULDERS OF THE MALE AND PUSHES HIM BACKWARD. HE CATCHES HIMSELF WITH MUSCLED FOREARMS AND EASES BACK ONTO THE CARPETED FLOOR. SHE STRADDLES HIM, LEADING HIM INTO HER WITH SLENDER, SEPIA FINGERS AND GRINDS HER HIPS INTO HIS. HER BACKSIDE PALPATES, ROTUND AND SHAPELY, YET STILL DWARFED BY HULKING THIGHS, RIPPLED WITH MUSCLE, SKIN STRAINED WITH SINEW AND BULBOUS VEINS SPIDERING DOWN HIS CALVES, TERMINATING AT THE ANKLES. TAIL LIGHTS DAZZLE OUT THE WINDSHIELD, A GROUP OF TEENAGERS SPEAKING, LAUGHING, A MICROCOSM OF PLAY, A FOREBODING OF FLIRTATION WITH POTENTIAL ILL INTENTION AND PROBABLE CONSEQUENCE. AND JUST BEYOND, A CAVALCADE OF HABITATS, GLASSED EXHIBITS TRAVELING THIRTY MILES AN HOUR. THEY CAN LEAVE AT ANY TIME. PAINTED YELLOW DASHES BLEND INTO A SINGLE LINE, THE BOUNDARY OF LIFE, THE GREAT PATH UNTO WHICH WE TREAD, THE STARLIGHT AND LIFELINE. IT BENDS, WE FIND SOMETHING NEW AND LOSE THE YOUTHFUL ASSEMBLY TO TIME AND SPACE AND CIRCUMSTANCE FOREVERMORE. AND WHAT IF WE KEPT WITH THE BEND, PASSED THAT YELLOWED LINE, MET SOLID WITH SOLID, BUT AT A DIFFERENT ANGLE? WOULD WE FIND NEW PLACES? REACH NEW HEIGHTS? WE WONDER. THE MALE PRESSES STURDY FINGERS INTO THE FEMALE’S WAIST, WAXED IN SWEAT, SHE BECOMES THE STOP LIGHTS, TAKING IN THE RED AND THE YELLOW AND THE GREEN, HER BODY AN UNCONSCIOUS CANVAS FOR WHICH THE WORLD TO PAINT. SHE’S MOANING NOW, LOUD AND UNFETTERED. HE GRUNTS, THROATY AND SOFT. THEY FEEL IT. THE END. CHANGE POSITION. CAMERA 5 THE BODIES FLOAT.

THE MALE LIFTS THE FEMALE OFF THE CARPET AND ONTO HER FEET. HE SPINS HER AROUND AND BENDS HER OVER. SHE ARCHES HER BACK AND STEADIES HERSELF, FINGERNAILS DIGGING INTO THE SEAT CUSHIONS. THEIR FACES ARE ALL WE SEE, ANGULAR YET SOFT, SHARP-EYED AND STRONG-BROWED. THEIR HAIR SHORT AND TOUSLED, A CHESTNUT BROWN. THEIR SKIN LIKE A BLENDED ACORN, UNBLEMISHED, POLISHED CLAY CRAFTED AND FIRED AND GLAZED IN THE EARTH’S CENTER. THEIR PROPORTIONS MIRRORED, THEIR SEX ORGANS DOUBLED AND WELDED UNTO EACH OTHER’S BODIES, THEY COPULATE WITH PERFECT PRECISION, FITTED TOGETHER LIKE SCRIBED WOODWORK. THEY HEAVE SIMULTANEOUSLY, TRADING MOANS, THE VIBRATIONS TRAVELING PAST THEIR TONGUES AND THROUGH PARTED LIPS MEET ONE ANOTHER IN HARMONY, SYNTHESIZING A CHORUS ABSOLUTE AND TRANSCENDENT, AN ECHO THAT BUZZES THEIR EARS AND BLOOMS THEIR HEART, BEATING CONTEMPORANEOUSLY. THEIR MEMBER FEELS THEIR’S AND THEY FEEL THE OTHER’S, FAST REACHING THE END OF STIMULATION, THAT PRONOUNCED MOMENT IN WHICH BOTH AND ONE KNOW THAT THERE WILL BE A CLIMAX, A MEANS TO AN END, A GRAND EXHALATION OF BREATH AND BODILY FLUID, A PURPOSE AND RELIEF OF THE BODY AND MIND AND THE MELDING OF THE TWO IN RELATION TO ANOTHER OF WHICH SOME WOULD CALL SOUL. THEY ARE NEARLY THERE. ALMOST THERE. RIGHT THERE. THEY DON’T SEE THE BEND. THE SHARP TURN INTO THE FOUR-STORY BUILDING TO THEIR LEFT, OVER THE CURB, IN BETWEEN THE GERIATRIC WOMAN AND THE WELLDRESSED COUPLE, SMILING TO THEMSELVES, SMILING AT EACH OTHER, INTO THE LIMESTONE CORNER, CATCHING THE LONG GLASS PANE OF THE DEPARTMENT STORE, MANGLING THE MANNEQUIN MODELING FAST FASHION ITEMS AND PLASTIC LIMBS, BARRELING THROUGH THE CREAM COLORED SHELVING BLOCKS, DISPERSING HOLLOW SCREAMS AND CRIES AND SHUDDERS. OUR PATH ABRUPTLY ENDS, AND SO DOES THEIRS. THEY BECOME ONE AND THE SAME. THEY BURST INSIDE. INVERTED. WHOLE. A WONDROUS THING OF FLESH AND ECSTASY. AND THEN THERE IS LIGHT. THE LAST LIGHT. AND THEN THERE IS SOUND. THE LAST SOUND. AND THEN THERE IS FLAME. THE LAST FLAME. A CARRIAGE OF LUST AND LIFE CAREENS INTO DARKNESS. FLOWS INTO DEATH. BLUE LIGHTS. RED LIGHTS.

SIRENS. SIRENS. SIRENS. THEY CHANGE POSITION.

GAME ON NATE BODHI

TW: BDSM

“DO IT YOURSELF BONDAGE KIT MY ASS!” AMBER CURSED. SHE WRENCHED HERSELF BACK AND FORTH. LEATHER CUFFS ON HER LEFT WRIST AND ANKLES DUG IN AND SHE STOPPED BEFORE THE PAIN GOT ANY WORSE. NAKED AND PLASTERED WITH LUBE, SHE NOW KNEW HOW A SOGGY PRETZEL MUST FEEL. SHE HAD FOLLOWED EVERY INSTRUCTION IN THE BOOK INCLUDING LOOPING THE KEY ON A STRETCHY BAND AROUND HER NECK BEFORE LOCKING HERSELF TO THE BEDFRAME. WITH THREE HOURS UNTIL CLARK GOT HOME FROM WATCHING THE BIG GAME WITH THE BOYS, SHE HAD PLENTY OF TIME TO TRY OUT ALL THE NEW SEX TOYS, SHOWER AND GET EVERYTHING RESET FOR THE BIG SURPRISE. THEN, WHEN SHE SAW HIS CAR LIGHTS COMING UP THE DRIVEWAY, SHE COULD HUSTLE UPSTAIRS, GET HERSELF INTO POSITION, AND WATCH HIM SALIVATE. ALL HAD GONE ACCORDING TO PLAN UNTIL SHE WENT TO LUBE UP THE SECOND DILDO. THE CAP ON THE BOTTLE POPPED, SCATTERING GEL OVER MOST OF HER AND THE BED. AMBER GLANCED OVER AT THE KEY THAT HAD SNAPPED OUT OF HER SLICK FINGERS AND CATAPULTED TO THE OTHER SIDE OF THE ROOM. “WELL, I WANTED TO BRING SOMETHING KINKY INTO OUR SEX LIVES.” “MRROWWL.” “YES, MR. CUDDLES, AND NOW I’M TALKING TO MYSELF.” THE RESIDENT FELINE HAD PUSHED THE BEDROOM DOOR OPEN AND WAS CHECKING OUT THE SILLY HUMAN DOING SILLY THINGS IN THAT SILLY POSITION. “NOW EITHER FETCH ME THAT KEY OR SHOO.” MR. CUDDLES LICKED HIS PAW AND GAVE HER A BORED ONCE OVER BEFORE HEADING BACK OUT. AMBER PLUNKED THE SIDE OF HER FACE ONTO THE PILLOW AND SIGHED. THE REFLECTION IN THE DRESSER MIRROR GAVE HER A FULL VIEW OF THE CALAMITY. “HMMM.” SHE SAID, POKING HER ASS UP A LITTLE HIGHER; FEELING THE VELVETY SHEETS BRUSH HER NIPPLES. “I DO LOOK HOT THOUGH. HE IS GOING TO LOVE THIS.”

SHE CLOSED HER EYES AND LET HER MIND SNEAK INTO THE COOKIE JAR. DIRTY THOUGHTS. NASTY THOUGHTS. DEPRAVED THOUGHTS ABOUT CLARK. THOSE STRONG HANDS TAUNTING HER FLESH. NAKED BODY RAMMING INTO HERS. HIS TASTE IN HER MOUTH. SHE FROZE WHEN THE HARD SLUNK OF A DEADBOLT HIT HER EARS. VOICES CLATTERED THROUGH THE FRONT DOOR. SOMEONE CLOMPED UP THE STEPS AND RUSHED PAST THE HALF- OPEN BEDROOM DOOR TO THE BATHROOM AT THE END OF THE HALL. AMBER HELD HER BREATH. SOMEONE WAS USING THE TOILET. BUT WHO? THE TOILET FLUSHED AND FOOTSTEPS HEADED BACK HER WAY. “I THOUGHT YOU WER-.” THE VOICE SHUT UP REAL QUICK. “CLARK, THANK EVERYTHING IT’S YOU. UMM, LET ME EXPLAIN...” SHE LET HIM HAVE IT FROM THE BEGINNING. “…SO IT WAS GOING TO BE A SURPRISE.” IT TOOK HIM MORE THAN A FEW TRIES TO GET HIS EYES UNGOOGLED. “THE GUYS ARE HERE TO WATCH THE GAME, FRANK’S TV BLEW UP. WOW, YOU LOOK AWESOME. HONEY, I’LL BE RIGHT BACK.” “RIGHT BACK? HEY, UNTIE ME FIRST.” “UNTIE YOU?” HE SNICKERED. “NOT A CHANCE. THIS IS WAY TOO GREAT TO PASS UP. I’M GOING TO TELL THE BOYS THEY CAN PUT THEIR COATS IN HERE OK?” “DON’T YOU DARE!” “YOU KNOW I DON’T DRINK BUT THEY LIKE THEIR BEER. BETTER KEEP THIS DOOR CLOSED BECAUSE THAT WOULD BE SOMETHING TO WRITE PLAYBOY ABOUT. YOU KNOW HOW DRUNK GUYS LIKE TO WANDER AROUND LOOKING FOR THE BATHROOM.” “CLARK!” “BACK AFTER THE FIRST PERIOD MY LITTLE TRAPPED MOUSE.” HE GAVE HER A PECK AND SCAMPERED OUT OF THE ROOM WITH A HOOT.

SHE PURSED HER LIPS AND THOUGHT ABOUT THE SENSATIONAL REVENGE THAT WOULD COST HIM HIS MANHOOD ONCE SHE GOT FREE. YA, IT WAS HERSELF THAT HAD GOTTEN HERSELF INTO THIS MESS BUT… “SHIT.” AMBER SAID, DOUBLE-CHECKING THE BONDS WERE STILL THERE. DUH, OF COURSE, THEY WERE DUMMY. THE HOOPLA DOWNSTAIRS CLIMBED TO PARTY PROPORTIONS AND THE CLOCK SLOWED DOWN. WAY DOWN. SHE HAD COME UP WITH SEVERAL EVIL METHODS FOR HIS CASTRATION BEFORE HE RETURNED. “CLARK, WIPE THAT SMILE OFF YOUR FACE AND LET ME GO.” “SCORE IS ONE NOTHING THANKS FOR ASKING. INTERMISSION IS ONLY GOING TO BE A FEW MINUTES LONG YOU SWEET THANG AND THE GUYS WILL BE WONDERING WHERE I AM. THAT SAID.” HIS GRIN TRIPLED. “GAME ON.” HE GRABBED BOTH OF HER CHEEKS AND BURIED HIS FACE BETWEEN THEM. TONGUE SLITHERING INTO HER ASS AND DOWN TO HER PUSSY. “CLARK, NO! NOW IS NOT THE TIME! I CAN’T…I CAN’T…” HER LIP TWISTED AS A DELICIOUS TINGLE CRAWLED INTO HER BELLY. DAMN, HE WAS GOOD AT THAT. “MMMM, YOU’RE SOAKED. HAVE YOU BEEN PLAYING WITH YOURSELF?” “NO.” SHE JERKED WHEN HE PLANTED ONE SQUARE ON HER ASS. “LIAR. I THINK YOU GOT SO HOT THINKING OF WHAT I WAS GOING TO DO TO YOU THAT YOU COULDN’T KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF YOURSELF.” “MAYBE.” HIS HAND CAME DOWN AGAIN. HARDER. “YES! YES, I WAS GETTING MYSELF OFF.” “SUCH AN INTERESTING SELECTION OF NEW PLAYTHINGS YOU LEFT OUT TOO. NOW WHAT DO WE HAVE HERE? AH YES. MULTI-SPEED WITH SUPERSONIC STIMULATION FOR HER PLEASURE.”

AMBER’S EYES SHOT TO THE MIRROR AND HER MOUTH DROPPED. “I SWEAR IF YOU USE THAT ON ME NOW.” “I DO ENJOY DIRTY TALK.” HE TRAILED IT DOWN HER BACK. “I’LL JUST PUT IT-” SHE FLUNG HER FREE ARM BACK AND CLAWED FOR THE THING. HE SNATCHED HER HAND AND JUMPED ON TOP OF HER, PINNING HER TIGHT. “BELIEVE ME WHEN I SAY THERE’S NOTHING MORE I’D LOVE TO DO RIGHT NOW THAN SLAM MY COCK INTO YOU BECAUSE YOU’VE GOT ME SO TURNED ON RIGHT NOW I CAN BARELY CONTROL MYSELF.” SHE GAPED AT HIS HEAVING BODY IN THE MIRROR; LIKE A LIGHTNING BOLT JUST BEFORE IT TORE SOMETHING APART. THE LAST LOCK CLICKED SHUT AND A GROWL SLID INTO HER EAR. “I KNOW YOU’VE BEEN FANTASIZING ABOUT THIS. I KNOW YOU PICKED UP ALL THESE TOYS FOR A REASON.” HIS HANDS CREPT LOWER. “AND I INTEND TO PUT THEM TO GOOD USE.” HIS HEARTBEAT WAS RACING AGAINST HER BACK. BREATH SEARING HER NECK; FINGERS DIGGING IN. AMBER FELT THE PRIMAL HEAT OF HIM OOZE INTO HER. SHE NEEDED TO RUN. TO CALL IT A STUPID MISTAKE AND GO BACK TO JUST DAYDREAMING ABOUT STUFF LIKE THIS. DEEP DOWN SHE KNEW IT WAS WHAT SHE WANTED. LATE AT NIGHT, DELVING INTO THE DUNGEON OF HER MIND, IT WAS EXACTLY WHAT CRAMMED HER DEVIANT DEPTHS. SHE GROUND HER TEETH TOGETHER AND A WHISPER SEEPED THROUGH. “GAME ON.” HE ROPED THE STRAP AROUND HER HIPS AND UP BETWEEN HER LEGS, SNUGGLING THE FLAT PART SECURELY AGAINST THE TOP OF HER SLIT. WITH A FLICK OF A SWITCH HE CLOSED THE BEDROOM DOOR BEHIND HIM. AMBER SHIVERED AS HER FLESH COOLED. THE TANG OF HIS SWEAT LINGERED IN THE AIR. SHE FILLED HER LUNGS WITH IT AND LET IT WISP OUT SLOWLY. HER EYELIDS DROOPED AND SILENCE TRICKLED IN. ALL BUT THE FAINT THUMP. IT ONLY JUST TICKLED BUT WAS CLASPED RIGHT WHERE IT NEEDED TO BE AND SHE COULD ALREADY FEEL HER CLITORIS SWELLING AGAINST IT.

THE VIBRATOR DIDN’T BUZZ NEARLY FAST ENOUGH TO PUT HER OVER THE EDGE. INSTEAD, IT WAS JUST LIKE A LONG-LASTING LOLLIPOP. SUGAR AND SWEET AND MEANT TO BE LICKED FOR A VERY, VERY LONG TIME. AMBER TIGHTENED AGAINST THE BABY BOLTS THAT WERE SKIPPING UP HER SPINE. SHOT FROM THE FEATHER SLOWLY PULSING BETWEEN HER LEGS. SURE AND STEADY. OVER AND OVER IT BEAT. SHREDDING HER BIT BY TINY BIT. MINUTES PASSED AND THE ROOM BEGAN TO BAKE. A WET BEAD TRICKLED DOWN THE SIDE OF HER FACE AND MELTED ONTO HER LIPS, SHARPNESS STINGING HER TONGUE. NERVES BEGAN TO TWIST AS HER FINGERS CLENCHED. THUMP. THUMP. THUMP. SHE FELT HER HIPS START TO SQUIRM, THE WARM GNAWING SLINKING INTO HER BONES. SOMETHING INSIDE HER TOOK A BITE AND SHE GASPED. MINUTES MORE AND STILL IT THROBBED. AMBER BORE DOWN. EYELIDS FLUTTERED. HER GUTS SHIFTED GEARS AND HER MUSCLES BEGAN TO CURVE. “ENJOYING YOURSELF?” SHE GLARED DAGGERS AT HIM. “SCORE IS TWO TO ONE AND YOU CAN GIVE ME THE SILENT TREATMENT ALL YOU WANT.” CLARK INHALED DEEPLY. “BUT I CAN TELL YOU’RE LOVING EVERY SECOND OF IT.” AMBER TOOK A BREATH AND STILLED THE TREMOR THAT WAS THREATENING TO EXPLODE INTO A FULL-SCALE RIOT. “YOU WON’T GET THE SATISFACTION.” “SATISFACTION.” HE CHUCKLED. “INTERESTING CHOICE OF WORDS. HOW ABOUT THE WORDS ‘GAME OFF.’ ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS SAY THEM AND I’LL LET YOU GO.” “THE GAME. IT’S UM, HOCKEY, RIGHT? DO THEY STILL SCORE TOUCHDOWNS IN THE SQUARED CIRCLE?” “VERY CUTE. CLAWING LIKE A TIGER.”

“I THOUGHT I WAS A MOUSE.” THAT CLIPPED HIM. SHE KNEW BY THE MOMENT HE TOOK BEFORE DISHING IT BACK AND IT WAS FIFTY BELOW WHEN HE DID. “SINCE IT’S THE LAST PERIOD,” HE WAVED THE NEXT THING ON HIS MIND IN FRONT OF HER. “I’LL HAVE TO MAKE SURE IT COUNTS.” HE CLIMBED ONTO THE BED BETWEEN HER LEGS AND SLOWLY…SLOWLY SLIPPED THE DILDO PAST HER SWOLLEN LIPS. AMBER BIT HER LIP AS THE THICK RUBBER STRETCHED HER OPEN, SCRAPING AGAINST HER SLICK WALLS AND COAXING THE JUICES OUT OF HER. “I KNOW YOU LOVE YOUR PUSSY FILLED.” HIS TEETH GRAZED HER EAR. “BUT I WAS JUST GETTING IT WET FOR WHERE IT’S GOING NEXT.” SHE CLENCHED BEFORE SHE COULD HELP IT. THE PRICK PUSHED AGAINST HER ASSHOLE AND NUDGED ITS HEAD INSIDE HER. INCH BY INCH IT SUNK, SLIPPERY WITH HER SAP AND DOWN TO THE HILT. “BACK SOON.” HE CLICKED THE VIBRATION ON HER CLIT UP A NOTCH AND WAS GONE. AMBER FELT THE LEATHER CUFFS SCOUR HER SKIN AS HER BODY COILED IN. AS IF A TOYMAKER HAD THRUST A KEY INTO HER BACK AND WAS WINDING HIS PUPPET UP. THE DRUMMING ON HER CLITORIS WAS CLANGING IN HER HEAD. THE COCK WAS DEEP, PUTTING AN EXQUISITE PRESSURE ON HER INSIDES. A FEVER SLICED OVER HER BODY AS IT STARTED TO CRUMBLE. AMBER HELD ON. SHE TRIED TO KEEP THE PENT SQUEALS FROM TUMBLING OUT. LOUDER AND LOUDER THEY BROKE THROUGH. HER HEAD CURLED BACK AND A WICKED MOAN ESCAPED. SHE SQUEEZED HER THIGHS TOGETHER AND“MRROWWL.” HER EYES POPPED.

FOOTSTEPS MOVED UP THE STAIRS AND A BOOZE-LACED SLUR TAGGED ALONG. HERE, KIDDY KIDDY KIDDY. WHERE’S A CUDDLY KIDDY CAT?” SHE CRANED HER NECK BACK BUT COULD ONLY GET FAR ENOUGH TO SEE HIS SHADOW SLIP ACROSS THE LIGHT JUST IN FRONT OF THE BEDROOM DOOR. “I KNOW YER” *HIC “HERE SOMEWHERE MISTER PUDDY CAT.” STEPS PLODDED CLOSER. “HEH HEH. MAYBE YER IN THE…” EVERY PORE IN HER LOCKED. HE LUMBERED PAST AND THE TOILET LID CLANKED DOWN. AMBER’S LUNGS BEGGED FOR RELEASE. SHE BURIED HER FACE IN THE PILLOW AND BIT DOWN, THE TORRENT IN HER FLESH POUNDING HER TO POWDER. ANOTHER SET OF STEPS MOVED UP THE STAIRS. THE TOILET FLUSHED. “OH HA HEYA THERE CLARK. HAVE YOU SEEN THAT KIDDY CAT?” “MR. CUDDLES SOMETIMES LIKES TO HANG AROUND IN OUR BEDROOM, HAVE YOU LOOKED IN THERE?” “THAT’S A FINE GOOD AHHH, GREAT IDEA. YER A DUDE Y’KNOW THAT? HERE, KIDDY KIDDY!” “BUT THE THIRD PERIOD’S OVER, FRANK AND I’VE GOT A FRESH COLD ONE WAITING FOR YOU DOWNSTAIRS. HOW ABOUT I MEET YOU THERE OK BUDDY?” “DEAL DUDE. Y’KNOW WHY YOUSE THE BEST…” AMBER LISTENED TO ONE SET OF FOOTFALLS FADE DOWN THE STAIRS AND THE OTHER STOPPED AT THE SIDE OF THE BED. CLARK STROKED HIS FINGER ALONG HER ARM AND ACROSS HER BACK. HER BLOOD FOLLOWED HIS FINGERS EVERYWHERE. HE SAID NOTHING, JUST TOUCHED EVERY PART OF HER ONE BY ONE.

AMBER PANTED. “I…I HEARD YOU, CLARK. P-PERIOD’S OVER AND I D-DIDN’T SAY IT. YOU HAVE T-TO LET ME GO.” “YOU’RE RIGHT.” HE SAID. “YOU DIDN’T SAY IT AND I’M SO PROUD OF YOU.” SHE LOOKED UP INTO HIS WONDERFUL FACE AND A SMILE SPREAD INTO HER. HE KNEW HER BETTER THAN ANYONE ELSE COULD AND HAD LIVED A LIFE WITH HER SHE HAD ONLY DREAMED OF. YEARS TOGETHER WITH ALL THE HOPES AND SCARS AND EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN THAT KEPT THEM STUCK TO ONE ANOTHER HAD MADE THEIR MATCH SO MUCH DEEPER. HE HAD MADE HER STRONG. STRONGER THAN SHE EVER THOUGHT SHE COULD BE. “BUT THERE’S ONE THING YOU NEED TO KNOW.” HE HELD UP THE SECOND DILDO, THE BIG ONE. “THEY’VE TIED IT UP AND THE GAMES GONE INTO OVERTIME.” AMBER YANKED AT THE CUFFS. SHE WANTED TO YELL AT HIM TO STOP THIS WICKED GAME. TO WAIL THE WORDS THAT WOULD PUT AN END TO THE TORTURE. SHE WANTED TO HATE HIM FOR THIS BUT SHE KNEW WHO STARTED IT TOO. HE PLUNGED THE DILDO INTO HER PUSSY AND CRANKED THE VIBRATOR SWITCH TO THE TOP. AMBER THROTTLED BACK A SCREAM BUT THE SHOT HAD ALREADY GONE OFF AND THE STORM THAT WAS RACING FROM HER CORE HIT HER LIKE A CANNONBALL. HER WHOLE FRAME BUCKLED. FOUR, FIVE, SIX TIMES HER BODY HEAVED, EACH BIGGER THAN THE LAST. WAVE AFTER WAVE WRENCHED HER INSIDES OUT. SHE GULPED FOR AIR. NAILS TEARING THE BEDSHEETS. EACH PIECE OF HER BOILING OVER. ANOTHER ORGASM SPLIT HER IN HALF. EVERY FIBER RIPPED ITSELF RAW AS ANOTHER HAMMERED INTO HER. AMBER CRASHED. HER LIMBS REFUSED TO MOVE AND HER BODY SHOOK LIKE IT WAS STRAPPED TO THE HOOD OF A RACECAR. THE LAST THING SHE REMEMBERED WAS HIS BEAUTIFUL EYES SMOLDERING INTO HERS AND DARKNESS TOOK HER IN. *** SHE WOKE TO A WARM BODY WRAPPED AROUND HER. DAYLIGHT DANCED THROUGH THE CURTAINS AND SPRINKLED IT OVER THE MORNING.

THE AIR WAS CLEAR IN HER LUNGS AND SHE STRETCHED. FREE. SORE BUT FREE. CLARK GAVE HER A SQUEEZE. “IT’S SUNDAY. GO BACK TO SLEEP.” AMBER NESTLED IN CLOSER. “WHY? I WANT TO CUDDLE WITH YOU.” “BECAUSE YOU TALK IN YOUR SLEEP AND I WANT TO HEAR MORE OF YOUR KINKY FANTASIES.” SHE SOCKED HIM WITH A PILLOW AND GIGGLED. “WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO IF I DON’T? TIE ME TO THE BED AND HAVE YOUR WAY WITH ME?” HE SNATCHED A PILLOW. “GAME ON.”

CURIOUS AS THE WHISPER'S MIRROR, ANOTHER RESTLESS GOODBYE BILL WOLAK

THE MYTH OF A LONELY MAN TOM STUCKEY

TW: SUICIDE

I HAD INSOMNIA EVEN BEFORE I STARTED LONG-HAUL FREIGHTING, NOW I TAKE SPEED BECAUSE IT HELPS IN OTHER WAYS. IT HELPS WITH THE NIGHTS OUT THERE; IT HELPS ANSWER THE QUESTIONS IN HERE AND WITH THE THINGS THAT ARE BEING HAULED BEHIND ME. I HAVE BEEN DESCRIBED AS THE LONELY TYPE BY THE FEW PEOPLE, MAINLY EX-GIRLFRIENDS, THAT HAVE KNOWN ME. BEING THIS WAY, AND NOT KNOWING HOW OR WHY PEOPLE “SETTLE DOWN” I SAW AN AD FOR LONG HAUL FREIGHT DRIVING AND ANSWERED IT. I HAVE BEEN ON THE ROAD NOW NON-STOP FOR EIGHT YEARS. ALL OF THE JOBS BLUR INTO THE MEANINGLESS, JUST HOW AND, WHEN BY? EXCEPT SOME, LIKE THIS ONE I’M HAULING UP DEEP INTO THE COUNTRY, THIS ONE I KNOW IS A BAD ONE. THIS ONE CAME WITH AN NDA AND HAS TO DO WITH ONE OF THE INTELLIGENCES NO DOUBT. BUT ON A CLEAR, COLD AND STAR FILLED NIGHT OUT ON THESE PLAINS, IT’S BETTER NOT TO LET THE MIND RUN TOO FAR AHEAD. “COM IN CACTUS, THIS IS TOM AND JERRY, DO YOU COPY?” IT WAS JERRY AND HIS CAT TOM, A FELLOW FREIGHTER WHO I’D GOTTEN TO KNOW OVER THE LAST FEW NIGHTS. “THIS IS CACTUS, COMING IN CLEAR, GOOD TO HEAR YOU, OVER.” “AH GOOD TO HEAR YOU TOO CACTUS MY MAN, WE ARE JUST LETTING YOU KNOW THERE’S A CHICKEN COOP UP HERE, A HUNDRED MILES SOUTH OF THE RAVINE WITH A FINE BURGER JOINT NEXT TO IT, OVER.” “THANKS JERRY, I APPRECIATE THE TIP AS ALWAYS, OVER.” “NO PROBLEM, MY MAN, AND SAY HELLO TO CHARLENE FOR ME, HA HA, OVER AND OUT.” ANY CONTACT OUT HERE WAS APPRECIATED, AND THESE TIPS PROVIDED SOME HOPE OF ALL A MAN REALLY NEEDS; A THOUGHT OF A WOMAN, NO MATTER HOW IMAGINARY, AHEAD. BEING ALONE OUT HERE CAN BE BOTH BEAUTIFUL AND OVERWHELMINGLY DEPRESSING. PICKING UP WOMAN ON THE WAY IS SOMETHING A LOT OF US DO, IS IT RIGHT? I THINK IT’S ONLY THE PEOPLE WHO DON’T KNOW, THAT ASK THESE TYPES OF QUESTIONS. DRIVING AT SPEED DOWN THIS STRAIGHT ROAD, THE BUGS LIGHTING UP BRIEFLY LIKE SNOW, AND THE DEER THAT RUN OUT INTO THE ROAD, SOMETIMES THEY MAKE IT, SOMETIMES THEY DON’T. WHEN THEY DON’T I FEEL BAD, IN THIS 18 THERE’S BARELY A SOUND, LITTLE BLOOD, AND THE BODY LEFT FOR THE WILD DOGS. THIS MUST BE THE PLACE JERRY WAS TALKING ABOUT UP AHEAD. WEIGHTING IN IS ALL AUTOMATED NOW, ALL GOES OFF TO WHERE EVER IT GOES, TO WHOEVER NEEDS IT.

THE BURGER JOINT IS THANKFULLY STILL RUN BY PEOPLE, PROBABLY FROM AROUND A TOWN NEARBY. COMING HERE IS LIKE GOING TO CHURCH OR SOMETHING, GETTING TO MEET PEOPLE, MAYBE TELL PEOPLE SOMETHING AND HEAR THE SINS OF ANOTHER. “GOOD EVENING DARL, WHAT CAN I GET FOR YOU?” “I’LL HAVE THE BIG BOY BURGER AND FRIES, THANK YOU, AND THE NUMBER FOR CHARLENE.” “SURE THING SUGAR, BE RIGHT WITH YOU.” THIS IS HOW SOME PLACES WORKED, THE WOMAN WOULD GIVE A CUT TO THE WAITRESSES FOR PASSING ON THEIR NUMBERS, THIS WAY THE WAITRESS WOULD GET A GOOD LOOK AT THE PERSON WHO WOULD BE WITH THE GIRL, CHARLENE. SITTING AT THE BOOTH, THE HEARING SENSES, WHEN YOU HAVE BEEN ALONE FOR A LONG TIME, IS HYPER SENSITIVE TO OTHER VOICES. PEOPLE TALK ABOUT EVERYTHING EXCEPT THE TRUTH THOUGH; HAPPY MARRIAGES, TAXES BY THE GOVERNMENT, DEATHS, BIRTHS, ILLNESSES, LOTTERY WINS, ALL WRAPPED UP IN A EXPECTABLE SOUNDING STORIES, THAT HAVE BEEN TOLD OVER AND OVER SINCE MEN WROTE ON WALLS. MUSIC PLAYED, PEOPLE SMILED BECAUSE THEY THOUGHT THEY HAD TOO, AND I SMILED BACK, BECAUSE IT WAS BETTER THAN THE OTHER OPTION. ON FINISHING MY FOOD, I SAW A WOMEN WALK UP BY THE WINDOW AND HEARD THE DING OF THE BELLS AS THE DOOR OPEN AND THEN WALK TOWARDS ME, SHE HAD LONG BRUNETTE HAIR AND A FULL BODY, DRESSED IN A FAKE FUR COAT AND SKIN TIGHT JEANS AND COWBOY BOOTS. SHE HAD EYES LIKE PIRATES JEWELS AND A SMILE THAT EVAPORATED ALL OTHER NOISE AROUND ME. “HI I’M CHARLENE, PLEASED TO MEET YOU, AND YOU ARE?” “HI, I’M FRANK, PLEASED TO MEET YOU TOO...CHARLENE, YOU ARE VERY PRETTY.” TALKING WITH A WOMAN IN THESE CIRCUMSTANCES CAN BE AWKWARD, BUT I’VE MOSTLY FOUND THAT THE MORE HUMAN YOU ARE THE EASIER THE TALKING IS. AND THAT IT’S OFTEN THE MAN WHO IS THE INSECURE ONE OF THE DEAL. THE ONE WHO’S HIDING. “WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE FRANK?”

“YES.” MY CABIN WAS KEPT CLEAN, THIS WAS DIFFICULT ON LONG JOURNEYS, BUT THERE ARE LAUNDRY MATS ALONG THE WAY, AND NO REASON NOT TO HAVE CLEAN SHEETS. AND AS SHE WALKED ACROSS THE LOT IN THE MOON LIGHT AND PHOSPHORUS SHE GLOWED. THE SMELL OF PERFUME LEAVING A TRAIL IN THE NIGHTS AIR. “HOW FAR ARE WE GOING FRANK BABY?” “WANT TO COME SOUTH WITH ME?” “SURE, I’D LIKE THAT HONEY.” SHE CLIMBED INTO THE CABINS BACK AND ONTO THE BED, AND I FOLLOWED, NOW ON THE BED SHE TOOK OFF HER COAT AND BOOTS ONE BY ONE, THEN HER JUMPER, JEANS, UNTIL SHE HAD JUST HER PURPLE BRA AND PANTS LEFT. CLIMBING ONTO THE BED AND ONTO HER KNEES SHE BEGAN TO UNBUCKLE MY BELT, PULL DOWN MY JEANS AND TOOK OUT MY PENIS AND LICKED, AND BEGAN TO SUCK AND LICK, SHE WORKED THE WHOLE OF ME WHILST I FELT INSIDE OF HER BRA AND TOOK HER BREAST OUT, WITH THE OTHER HOLDING HER HAIR BACK. I CAME INSIDE HER MOUTH AND AS IF FROM A WAITING ROOM OF HELL, A FEELING OF LONELINESS CAME BEHIND. ALL I WANTED TO DO WAS REGAIN THE FEELING OF EXCITEMENT AND TO HOLD ONTO HER AND TO HAVE LIFE FLOW AGAIN. “THANKS FOR THAT FRANK BABY, BE GOOD.” SHE WAS OUT AGAIN IN 10 MINUTES, INTO THE COLD AIR, LEAVING BEHIND HER PERFUME LIKE SPOIL, NO POINT TRYING TO MAKE IT SOMETHING IT’S NOT. ON THE ROAD AGAIN, WITH THE SMELL STILL ON THE SHEETS AND ON MY CLOTHES, NOSTALGIA MOVING IN, THE TRUCK PULLED AT THE DIESEL HARD, AS IT GRADUALLY GOT BACK UP TO SPEED. THE TREES BECAME BLACK MARSHES AGAIN AND WHATEVER WAS IN THE BACK WAS ON ITS WAY AGAIN TO HELL. VISIONS OF WHAT I’D LOST IN LIFE BEGAN TO POOR IN; FAMILY BBQS, WATCHING SPORTS WITH A SON, COMMUNITY, A SENSE OF BELONGING SOMEWHERE. THE INKY SLICK ROAD BEGAN TO HUM UNDER THE WHEELS, THE FOOT BECOMING HEAVY, LIKE LIQUID GOLD, FILLING FROM THE BOOTS UP THE LEG, WARM AND BRIGHT.

MEN WHO HAVE IT ALL AND COMPLAIN, CHILDREN WHO FOLLOW THE MAN, NOT CONTENT, INTO SOCIETY THAT IGNORANTLY WISHES FOR THINGS OTHER THAN WHAT THEY HAVE. A SCARED PEOPLE WHO BUILD ON FEAR, NEW WAYS TO DESTROY IT ALL. I DIDN’T CHOOSE THIS, THIS LONELINESS, I MOVE IN A HOSTILE ENVIRONMENT OF HUNTERS FROM BIRTH, AND I DON’T UNDERSTAND IT. THE SPEED AND THE SOUND OF SCREAMING COMING FROM THE WHEELS. “CAUTION RAVINE 2 MILES AHEAD, BEGIN TO SLOW.” ON AND ON AND ON, NO ONE AROUND TO SEE, THE FLAMES, THE MESS, THE ENERGY, THE CHOICE. THE RAVINE LIT UP LIKE HELL.

MOONLIGHTING CASTLE

TW: EXORCISM

“MICHAEL, HOW DO I LOOK?” I FIND MYSELF ASKING FOR THE THIRD TIME. MY LOVE SHOOTS ME A GLANCE AND A ONE-SIDED TWITCH THAT COULD ALMOST BE MISTAKEN FOR A SMILE AND SAYS “LOVELY, AS ALWAYS, DARLING.” I STOLE A TWO SECOND GLANCE AWAY FROM THE LION SHAPED CUFFLINKS, HOW DARE I? WEARING A BLACK COCKTAIL DRESS, ONE TAILORED TO NOT SHOW TOO MUCH CLEAVAGE, I DO LOOK LOVELY. THEN WHY NOT LUST ONTO VIRTUOUS ENTERTAINMENT. I’M STANDING RIGHT HERE. ISN’T THE WOMAN SUPPOSED TO TAKE LONGER? DOESN’T THE MAN FINISH FIRST? I TAKE A STEP BACK AND LOOK AT THE “SCENERY”, MY SCENERY, MY LIFE IS HERE, IN THIS CARICATURE. THE CURTAINS ARE A DEEP RED, THE COLOUR OF FRESH BLOOD AND IT’S EASY TO HIDE STAINS. I DON’T KNOW WHY THERE’D BE STAINS ON THE CURTAINS THOUGH. THE CARPET MATCHES, OF COURSE. JESUS IS HERE, HE’S EVERYWHERE, LOOKING AT ME. STRUNG UP, BARELY CLOTHED, AND SPIKED INTO THE CROSS. I WONDER IF HE HAD ABS LIKE THAT BACK IN BIBLICAL TIMES OR DOES THE CHURCH SECRETLY WISH HE DID. MAYBE THEY WANT TO ENVISION AN ATTRACTIVE MAN PENETRATING THEIR SOUL, RATHER THAN AN UGLY ONE. I DON’T BLAME THEM, I LIKE TO LOOK AT THE SON OF GOD, I LIKE TO TALK TO HIM. BEHIND ME IS THE KITCHEN, I SEE IT IN MY DREAMS AT THIS POINT. I CAN PICTURE ITS LAYOUT EXACTLY WITHOUT EVEN LOOKING, THERE SHOULD BE A BIG WOODEN SPOON LEFT OUT ON THE COUNTER BUT APART FROM THAT, THE COUNTERS ARE CLEAR, NOT A SINGLE SCRATCH UPON THEM, THIS TIME ROYAL BLUE WITH ACCENTS OF GOLD. NOT A COMBINATION I WOULD CHOOSE BUT THEN AGAIN, I DON’T KNOW WHAT IT’S LIKE TO FEEL SMALL. I DO A LITTLE TWIRL. KNEW IT. I SHOULD PUT THAT SPOON AWAY. “WHAT WAS THAT FOR?” HE SAYS. “I’M JUST SO HAPPY” I SMILE. “COME ON” HE ROLLS HIS EYES AT ME. “THE TAXI IS HERE.” MY FACE IS FROZEN, MY CHEEKS SORE. I LET OUT A LITTLE NOISE SOME PEOPLE MIGHT FIND CUTE, IN FACT I‘VE PRACTISED IT. A HIGH-PITCHED HALF MOAN HALF GIGGLE SORT OF SOUND I’VE HEARD OTHER GIRLS MAKE. NO REACTION THOUGH, I’LL TRY AGAIN LATER. MICHAEL EXPECTS TO BE DRINKING TONIGHT, THAT’S WHY ANOTHER MAN IS OPENING THE DOOR FOR ME.

STARING OUT THE WINDOW, AT THE CITY LIGHTS, I CAN PRETEND I’M FLYING. THE DRIVER IS OLD AND BALDING AND SKINNY AND SHORT. HE’S PLAYING A SONG I’VE NEVER HEARD, IT’S NOT VERY GOOD. MICHAEL’S SITTING NEXT TO ME, I WONDER IF HE’S LOOKING AT ME AT ALL. I CATCH LITTLE PEEKS OF HIS REFLECTION IN THE GLASS IN MOMENTS WHEN THE LIGHTS DON’T HIT IT. HE ISN’T. IT’S A LITTLE CHILLY OUT. WE ARRIVE AT THE PARTY FASHIONABLY EARLY, I GUESS, THERE’S NOT A LOT OF PEOPLE HERE YET. I SAY “PARTY” IT’S A WORK THING, I’M HONESTLY NOT SURE WHY BUSINESSMEN HAVE EVENTS LIKE THIS, IT MUST JUST BE AN EXCUSE TO DRINK AND SHOW OFF THEIR BIG GOLD WATCHES AND THEIR BIG PULSING EGOS. I’M GLAD WE’RE EARLY. I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO ANYONE YET BUT HERE COMES THE INEVITABLE AS MICHAEL GESTURES FOR A MAN AND A WOMAN TO COME OVER TO US. “MICHAEL!” SAYS MAN “SO GOOD TO SEE YOU! IS THIS THE WIFE?” I TILT MY HEAD TO THE SIDE AND SMILE AND FREEZE IN TIME. “HA, YES, THIS IS HER. WE’RE COMING UP ON 2 MONTHS NOW AREN’T WE DARLING?” SAYS MICHAEL. I NOD AND GIGGLE A LITTLE, I HAVE A FEELING I’M NOT A PART OF THE CONVERSATION. “2 MONTHS, YOU’RE LIVING THE DREAM, TRY 8 YEARS!” MAN LAUGHS. MICHAEL LAUGHS TOO BUT I DON’T KNOW WHY. IT’S KIND OF FUNNY TO WATCH HIS LITTLE ACT. HE’S POINTING AT HIS WATCH NOW. WOW, LOOK AT THE TIME, CAN’T YOU TELL MY PENIS IS HUGE? I STOP LISTENING AND LOOK AT WOMAN, SHE’S A LOT YOUNGER THAN MAN, OR, SHE LOOKS A LOT YOUNGER AT LEAST. MEN DON’T REALLY CARE ABOUT HOW OLD THEY LOOK, I THINK. SHE ISN’T LOOKING AT ME AND SHE ISN’T LOOKING AT OUR HUSBANDS. I WONDER WHAT SHE’S THINKING ABOUT. I WONDER IF THAT’S ME FROM THE FUTURE. I’M TAKEN AWAY FROM HER AS MICHAEL TAPS MY SHOULDER AND SAYS HE’S GOING TO “NETWORK” AND THAT I SHOULD “HAVE FUN”. I’M NOT THE SORT OF WIFE YOU SHOW OFF TO YOUR COWORKERS. I LOOK BACK AND WOMAN IS GONE, ATTACHED TO MAN AGAIN. TIME TO GO TO THE BATHROOM. I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO IT.

BATHROOMS AT THESE PLACES ARE ALWAYS SO FANCY, LIKE LAST TIME THERE WAS A COUCH, AND I WAS A FIANCÉ. NO COUCH THIS TIME BUT IT IS PRETTY, IT’S DECORATED IN A CORAL PINK COLOUR WITH BLACK MARBLE. I LOOK INTO THE MIRROR AND SEE MYSELF; I SEE MY POTENTIAL. MY DRESS MAKES ME MODEST; MY HAIR MAKES ME FEMININE, MY EYES MAKE ME ALLURE, MY FACE MAKES ME...

“GORGEOUS” A MAN’S VOICE INTERRUPTS MY THOUGHT, GREAT. WAIT“UM... I THINK THIS IS THE WOMEN’S BATHROOM, SIR” I SAY. “OH SHIT, YOU’RE RIGHT I’M SORRY, I ASSUMED THEY WERE ALL NEUTRAL.” HE REPLIES, THE TONE OF HIS VOICE MAKES ME THINK HE’S NOT A TOTAL WEIRDO. “YOU DO LOOK GORGEOUS THOUGH, ARE YOU HERE WITH SOMEONE?” HE SAYS, UNMOVING. I’M THINKING. “YEAH, I’M WITH A FRIEND.” “I FIGURED THAT MUST BE THE CASE, THAT OR YOU’RE A NEW HIRE.” HE SMILES AT ME. “NO I... I’M NOT SMART ENOUGH FOR A JOB LIKE THIS.” I TELL HIM. “I HIGHLY DOUBT THAT.” HE REPLIES, “MOST OF THE NEW GUYS THAT HAVE JOINED ME ARE COMPLETE IDIOTS” HE LAUGHS A LITTLE, I MAKE THAT NOISE I PRACTISED. “WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” HE ASKS, NEVER BREAKING EYE CONTACT. “MARY.” “BEAUTIFUL” “WHAT’S YOURS?” “LUKE” LUKE STEPS TOWARDS THE DOOR, BUT HE CAN’T BE LEAVING. WHO LEAVES RIGHT AFTER INTRODUCING THEMSELF? OR AM I JUST THAT UNAPPEALING.

I’M LOOKING AT THE FLOOR THEN AT THE MIRROR AT MYSELF AGAIN OVER AND OVER, LIKE AN UPBEAT SONG OR HEAVY BREATHING AND I HEAR THE CLICK OF A LOCK. OH, I SEE. HE’S STILL HERE. MY LEGS BEGIN TO SHAKE, IT’S NOT COLD IN HERE BUT I CAN’T MAKE THEM STOP. HE SMILES A LITTLE, BUT WIDE ENOUGH THAT I CAN SEE THE SHARPNESS OF HIS TEETH. I FIND MYSELF STARING AT THEM FOR A LITTLE TOO LONG AS HE STEPS CLOSER TO ME, AND I NEARLY CRUMBLE INTO DUST. I CAN’T PLACE HOW I’M FEELING, I CAN’T UNDERSTAND IT. THE LIGHTS ON THE CEILING OF THE BATHROOM WARP HIS SHADOW, MAKING HIM TALLER, BIGGER, POINTIER AGAINST THE WALL BEHIND HIM. IT’S ALMOST LIKE A CREATURE FOLLOWING HIM THEN FOLLOWING ME. HE’S HERE. “CAN YOU FEEL THAT?” HE ASKS. I’M NOT SURE WHAT HE“OH!” I LET OUT. I DO FEEL IT, A GROWING HARD FEELING PRESSING AGAINST ME. I STUDY HOW IT FEELS AS IT GROWS IN SIZE AND MOVES UPWARDS UNTIL IT STOPS. OH MY GOD, THAT’S NOT WHAT I REHEARSED, WHAT AN ANNOYING LITTLE NOISE I MAKE. WHY DO I MAKE IT SO OBVIOUS? HIS EYES ARE STARING AT MINE, WHILE MINE STARE AT THE SHADOW’S. I CAN FEEL THEM. HE TAKES MY HAND AND I AM HYPER-AWARE OF THE STRUCTURE, HIS HAND IS BONEY BUT THE BONES ARE BIG. HIS HAND ENVELOPS MINE. A TIGHT GRIP YET THERE’S A SENSE OF COMFORT FROM THE FEELING. HIS HAND IS TELLING MY HAND THAT I SHOULD LISTEN TO MY OWN DESIRE. I WONDER IF THE NAME LUKE IS SHORT FOR SOMETHING. IS IT? LUCAS MAYBE. LU… LUC THE SOUND OF METAL CLANKING TAKES ME OUT OF MY THOUGHT. MY EYES LOCK BACK IN AND THEY ARE DRAWN BACK TO HIS HANDS. I HAVE ONE. THE OTHER IS BUSY. I WATCH AS HIS FINGERS INTERTWINE WITH THE STRAP OF HIS BELT AS HE UNBUCKLES IT. MY MOUTH IS DRY, TOO DRY, I HOPE IT’S NOT WORSE BECAUSE IT’S DRY, I’M SAYING DRY TOO MUCH I CAN’T TELL IF IT’S A REAL WORD ANYMORE. I GUESS HE CAN SENSE MY EMOTIONS AS I HEAR HIM SAY, “YOU CAN JUST WATCH, IF YOU WANT.” “NO! I- I WANT TO JOIN IN. I JUST.. I’VE NEVER..” HE LETS GO OF MY HAND.

“AREN’T YOU MARRIED?” HE CUTS ME OFF. “YEAH BUT,” I PAUSE FOR A SECOND “WE DON’T DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT.” “WHAT A WASTE.” I DON’T REMEMBER TELLING HIM I WAS MARRIED. HE LOOKS RIGHT INTO ME AGAIN, WITH HIS TEA-COLOURED EYES, BROWN WITH A HINT OF SPICE. HE LETS OUT A GIGGLE, EXPOSING ME TO HIS SHARP TEETH ONCE MORE. HE HAS SUCH A STRANGE YET BEAUTIFUL FACE. I WANT HIM. I WANT HIM TO BITE ME WITH THOSE FANGS. I’M LIFTED ONTO THE COUNTER WHERE THE SINKS ARE. LUKE’S HANDS REACH UNDERNEATH MY DRESS, SLOWLY PULLING THEM APART. HE GRABS ONTO MY UNDERWEAR, PULLING THEM OFF OF ME. WAIT, WHICH PAIR DID I WEAR TODAY? NONE OF MINE ARE REALLY THAT FANCY BUT MAYBE THAT WOULD BE A SECRET SORT OF FUN. HE REVEALS A PAIR OF PLAIN WHITE BRIEFS. AH… OF COURSE. HE FOCUSES BACK ONTO HIS OWN BODY AND LOWERS HIS ALREADY UNBUCKLED TROUSERS, REVEALING HIS PENIS. I’VE NEVER SEEN ONE BEFORE, NOT IN PERSON. I LOOK AT THINGS ONLINE, OBVIOUSLY, I HAVE TO SOMEHOW. HE REACHES INTO HIS POCKET AND PULLS OUT A CONDOM. “UM…” I BLURT OUT, “I CAN’T GET PREGNANT SO… WE DON’T REALLY NEED-” “YOU WANT IT RAW?” HE SAYS, CUTTING ME OFF AGAIN, I WONDER HOW HE SEES ME. BEFORE I HAVE THE CHANCE TO REPLY HE LETS OUT ANOTHER LITTLE LAUGH. I GUESS HE APPROVES. HE STEPS CLOSER TO ME, AND I CAN FEEL HIM PRESSED AGAINST ME AGAIN, ONLY THIS TIME THERE’S NOTHING BETWEEN US. HE WHISPERS SOMETHING I CAN’T MAKE OUT AS HE PUSHES HIMSELF INSIDE OF ME. IT HURTS A LITTLE, THOUGH THAT’S NORMAL RIGHT. IT HURTS. IT FEELS GOOD. IT HURTS. IT FEELS AMAZING. I CAN’T CONTAIN MY BREATH. I LEAN CLOSER TO HIM, NEEDING SOMETHING TO GRAB ONTO. I HOLD ONTO HIS TORSO; IT’S MOVING TO A RHYTHM. I DIDN’T KNOW A PERSON COULD FEEL LIKE THIS, THIS RUSH OF PLEASURE AND ENERGY.

I’M LEARNING TOO, ABOUT WHAT MY INSIDES FEEL LIKE. I’M LEARNING THERE’S A SWEET SPOT THAT HE KEEPS HITTING THAT FEELS LIKE WHEN YOU’RE ON A ROLLERCOASTER RIGHT BEFORE THE DROP, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I GRAB ONTO HIS HAIR AND PULL AND PUSH AND TWIST, THE GEL STILL IN FROM WHEN HE METICULOUSLY PREPARED FOR THE PARTY MAKING IT STAND UP IN SORT OF SPIKES. I MAKE TWO BIG VAGUE SPIKES ON THE UPPER SIDES OF HIS HEAD, LIKE DOG EARS. THAT’S FUN TOO. “WOOF.” HE BARKS. I CAN FEEL MY BURNING HOT CHEEKS TURN INTO A SMILE. THIS WHOLE TIME I HAVEN’T BEEN LOOKING AT HIM, I REALISE. I LOOK UPWARDS TOWARDS HIS EYES, AND THEY ARE STARING RIGHT INTO MINE, LIKE THEY HAVE BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME. I TRY NOT TO LOOK AWAY AGAIN BUT IT’S HARD TO NOT BE EMBARRASSED AT THE SENSORY HURRICANE I’M GOING THROUGH. HE’S GETTING FASTER, IT’S HARD TO CATCH MY BREATH. MY HEAD FEELS CLOUDED, I CAN’T THINK STRAIGHT, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS THE FEELING. I BREAK EYE CONTACT AGAIN, IT’S TOO PIERCING. I LOOK BACK AT HIS SHADOW, IT’S MOVED A BIG NOW WE’RE AGAINST THE SINKS. IT DISTORTS A LITTLE, WHERE THE FLOOR AND THE WALL MEET. IT LOOKS EVEN TALLER, ELONGATED, WITH THE SPIKES THAT I ADDED ALSO BEING STRETCHED TALLER. IT’S FUNNY IT LOOKS ALMOST LIKEHE STARTS THRUSTING HARDER, I CAN’T. I DON’T. WHAT WAS I I LET OUT A LITTLE SQUEALING SOUND, I THINK, I THINK THAT WAS ME. HE PRESSES HIS HAND ON MY LOWER ABDOMEN, HE KNOWS. THAT’S THE SPOT THAT’S RIGHT WHERE IT FEELS LIKE THE RIDES AT THE FUNFAIR. IT GETTING PRESSED FROM BOTH SIDES AT THIS SPEED MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO EXPLODE, AND I DO. I WIN, I GUESS? GOOD FOR ME, I WAS WRONG, THE MAN DOESN’T ALWAYS FINISH FIRST, BUT HE QUICKLY FOLLOWS. IT FILLS ME UP, LIKE PIPING A CAKE WITH BUTTERCREAM IN THE CENTRE. I FEEL SWEET. I WANT TO KEEP DOING THIS, FOREVER. *** MY WIFE HAS BEEN ACTING STRANGE. I ALWAYS THOUGHT OF HER AS A TRUE GOD-FEARING GIRL. BUT PERHAPS MY LOVE HAD BLINDED ME FROM WHAT WAS GROWING INSIDE OF HER.

I’M LEARNING TOO, ABOUT WHAT MY INSIDES FEEL LIKE. I’M LEARNING THERE’S A SWEET SPOT THAT HE KEEPS HITTING THAT FEELS LIKE WHEN YOU’RE ON A ROLLERCOASTER RIGHT BEFORE THE DROP, OVER AND OVER AGAIN. I GRAB ONTO HIS HAIR AND PULL AND PUSH AND TWIST, THE GEL STILL IN FROM WHEN HE METICULOUSLY PREPARED FOR THE PARTY MAKING IT STAND UP IN SORT OF SPIKES. I MAKE TWO BIG VAGUE SPIKES ON THE UPPER SIDES OF HIS HEAD, LIKE DOG EARS. THAT’S FUN TOO. “WOOF.” HE BARKS. I CAN FEEL MY BURNING HOT CHEEKS TURN INTO A SMILE. THIS WHOLE TIME I HAVENT BEEN LOOKING AT HIM, I REALISE. I LOOK UPWARDS TOWARDS HIS EYES, AND THEY ARE STARING RIGHT INTO MINE, LIKE THEY HAVE BEEN THIS WHOLE TIME. I TRY NOT TO LOOK AWAY AGAIN BUT IT’S HARD TO NOT BE EMBARRASSED AT THE SENSORY HURRICANE I’M GOING THROUGH. HE’S GETTING FASTER, IT’S HARD TO CATCH MY BREATH. MY HEAD FEELS CLOUDED, I CAN’T THINK STRAIGHT, ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS THE FEELING. I BREAK EYE CONTACT AGAIN, IT’S TOO PIERCING. I LOOK BACK AT HIS SHADOW, IT’S MOVED A BIG NOW WE’RE AGAINST THE SINKS. IT DISTORTS A LITTLE, WHERE THE FLOOR AND THE WALL MEET. IT LOOKS EVEN TALLER, ELONGATED, WITH THE SPIKES THAT I ADDED ALSO BEING STRETCHED TALLER. IT’S FUNNY IT LOOKS ALMOST LIKEHE STARTS THRUSTING HARDER, I CAN’T. I DON’T. WHAT WAS I I LET OUT A LITTLE SQUEALING SOUND, I THINK, I THINK THAT WAS ME. HE PRESSES HIS HAND ON MY LOWER ABDOMEN, HE KNOWS. THAT’S THE SPOT THAT’S RIGHT WHERE IT FEELS LIKE THE RIDES AT THE FUNFAIR. IT GETTING PRESSED FROM BOTH SIDES AT THIS SPEED MAKES ME FEEL LIKE I’M GOING TO EXPLODE, AND I DO. I WIN, I GUESS? GOOD FOR ME, I WAS WRONG, THE MAN DOESN’T ALWAYS FINISH FIRST, BUT HE QUICKLY FOLLOWS. IT FILLS ME UP, LIKE PIPING A CAKE WITH BUTTERCREAM IN THE CENTRE. I FEEL SWEET. I WANT TO KEEP DOING THIS, FOREVER. *** MY WIFE HAS BEEN ACTING STRANGE. I ALWAYS THOUGHT OF HER AS A TRUE GOD-FEARING GIRL. BUT PERHAPS MY LOVE HAD BLINDED ME FROM WHAT WAS GROWING INSIDE OF HER.

I TOOK HER TO THE WORK PARTY OUT OF COURTESY, SHE INSISTED. I’M STARTING TO SUSPECT THERE WERE HIDDEN MOTIVES BEHIND HER INSISTENCE, THOUGH. SHE HASN’T BEEN THE SAME SINCE. WE SEPARATED FOR A WHILE AND GOD KNOWS SHE WOULD HAVE NOTHING IN COMMON WITH ANY OF MY COLLEAGUES, SO I’M AT A LOSS AT WHAT SHE COULD HAVE POSSIBLY BEEN DOING. IT BOTHERED ME, ESPECIALLY AFTER A WHILE, PEOPLE STARTED TO NOTICE MY DARLING WIFE WAS NOWHERE TO BE SEEN. I COULDN’T STAND IT. I CAN’T STAND IT EVEN NOW. IT’S ALMOST AS IF SHE’S BEEN REPLACED BY AN INFERIOR CLONE, IT LOOKS LIKE MY MARY, BUT JESUS, THE WAY SHE TALKS… SHE MIGHT AS WELL BE A WHORE. JUST GOT BACK FROM TODAY’S SUNDAY SERVICE, MARY DIDN’T COME WITH ME. SAID SHE “WASN’T FEELING WELL.” THAT’S BULLSHIT, IN ALL HONESTY SHE’S NEVER LOOKED BETTER THAN SHE HAS IN THE PAST FEW WEEKS. SHE NEVER BOTHERED TO LOOK THIS GOOD FOR ME, THAT’S FOR SURE. IS SHE CHEATING ON ME? SHE HAS TO BE. DESPITE HER BLONDE HAIR GLOWING AND HER SKIN AS SMOOTH AS EVER I CAN SMELL THE DISGUSTING AURA OF SIN LEAKING FROM THEM. I’VE TRIED TO TALK TO HER ABOUT HER… ISSUES. BUT SHE DENIES IT ALL, LYING TO MY, HER HUSBAND’S FACE. FATHER DANIEL NOTICED MY DEMEANOUR THIS MORNING. PLUS, IT’S NO DOUBT ALL THOSE PATHETIC SAGGY TITTED WOMEN NOTICED MARY WASN’T THERE. I’M SURE I WAS THE CENTRE OF ATTENTION FOR THOSE WASTES OF AIR. ANYWAY, FATHER SAID I COULD SPEAK TO HIM ABOUT MY TROUBLES ANYTIME. HONESTLY AS MUCH AS I HAVE FAITH IN THE LORD, EVERYONE SAYS FATHER DANIEL CAN BE A LITTLE EXTREME. I HEARD LAST MONTH HE TRIED TO CAST OUT THE “DEMON” FROM SOME CRAZY OLD MAN, HE DIED. NOW, I CAN APPRECIATE DEVOTION, BUT I THINK THE POOR MAN JUST HAD DEMENTIA OR SOMETHING. I HEARD IT WAS A CLOSED CASKET FUNERAL AFTER THAT HAHA… I REFUSED HIS OFFER. *** THAT FUCKING WHORE, SHE GOT BACK FROM WORK TODAY AFTER ME THIS TIME. OH, YEAH, SHE “WORKS” NOW. SOMETHING I CHOOSE TO IGNORE, FOR MY OWN SAKE. AS IF SHE COULDN’T EMASCULATE ME ANYMORE THAN SHE ALREADY DOES, PARADING HERSELF AROUND LIKE A COMMON STREET WALKER. ANYWAY, SHE GOT BACK AND THE STATE OF HER! HER HAIR WAS A MESS, HER LIPSTICK SMUDGED AT THE CORNERS.

I SAW HER GLANCE AT THE SON. SHE SMIRKED AT HIM, I KNOW, I SAW IT. THE MARY I MARRIED WOULD NEVER EVEN THINK TO DISGRACE THE LORD LIKE THIS. “MARY.” I SPEAK OUT. “WHAT IS IT?” SHE REPLIES, WHAT ABOUT ““YES, MICHAEL?”” OR DARE I SAY, “”YES, DARLING?””. NO, NO TOO MUCH TO ASK FOR MY WIFE TO SPEAK TO ME WITH RESPECT. “WHO IS IT YOU WEAR _______ FOR?” I ASK, REVEALING THE LIPSTICK IN MY HAND. “FOR MYSELF,” SHE LIES, “I JUST WANT TO FEEL PRETTIER, MICHAEL”.

“FOR WHO? WHO NEEDS YOU TO BE PRETTIER, YOU’RE ALREADY MY WIFE.” “I JUST SAI-“ SHE’S INTERRUPTING ME. “FOR WHO?” I REITERATE. “THERE IS NO NEED FOR YOU TO GO MAKE A FOOL OUT OF YOURSELF AND OUT OF ME. YOU ARE MY WIFE; YOU HAVE TO PLEASE ME.” “I’M NOT MAKING A FOOL OUT OF YOU, MICHAEL. I JUST WANT TO FEEL PRETTY AT THE OFFICE, THERE’S OTHER WOMEN THERE, THEY WEAR MAKEUP”.

“AND THESE WOMEN, MARY, ARE WHORES.” I STATE. “BUT HOW CAN I BE A WHORE, MICHAEL? WE’RE MARRIED AND WE’VE NEVER EVEN-“ HOW DARE SHE TALK BACK TO ME THIS WAY. “WHO WOULD WANT TO TOUCH A WOMAN THAT CAN’T DO HER JOB AS ONE!” THOSE WORDS SEEMED TO SHUT HER UP. *** I SPOKE TO FATHER DANIEL TODAY; I COULDN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE. A WEIGHT HAS BEEN LIFTED FROM MY HEART. I DON’T KNOW WHY I TOOK SO LONG TO REACH OUT TO HIM. HE SAYS IT’S NOT MY MARY, MARY IS PURE AND KINDHEARTED. HE SAYS SHE’S BEING TARGETED BY SOMETHING EVIL BECAUSE OF HER PURITY.

AS I WATCH HER MAKE DINNER IN OUR HOME, I NOTICE THE CROSSES AND SIGNS OF THE LORD DON’T PHASE HER. BUT NOW I REALISE, IT’S BECAUSE OF MARY, HER VESSEL, IT’S FREE FROM SIN AND SO, THE DEVIL IS SHIELDED BY HER. THAT’S WHY IT TAUNTS AND SMIRKS AND DEFILES HIM SO. “MARY, DARLING?” I ASK NICELY. “YES, MICHAEL? WHAT IS IT?” IT CHARMINGLY RESPONDS. “THERE’S A FUNDRAISER AT THE CHURCH ON MONDAY NIGHT, WOULD YOU PLEASE COME WITH ME? EVERYONE WOULD LOVE TO SEE YOU.” “UM…” SHE SEEMS APPREHENSIVE. “IT’S FOR A GOOD CAUSE, EVERYONE WILL BE THERE; THE NEIGHBOURS, OUR FRIENDS, MY BOSS.” “I CAN COME.” SHE QUICKLY RESPONDS. “DO I NEED TO BRING ANYTHING? IF IT’S A FUNDRAISER MAYBE I CAN BAKE SOMETHING.” “NO NO, THERE’S NO NEED” I CONCLUDE. “JUST BRING YOURSELF THAT’S ALL THEY NEED”.

I SMILE AT THE DEVIL IN THE FORM OF MY WIFE. SHE’LL COME BACK TO ME, MONDAY NIGHT.

IF ONLY YOU MARY MAGAGNA

TW: SEXUAL ISSUES SUGGESTIVE OF INCEST, GENDERIZED ROLES

“ONLY YOU,” HE CROONS. “IF ONLY YOU…” THE VENUE IS BARELY A QUARTER FULL; THE THEATER BROKEN AND DISMAL. HE WAS HER MOTHER’S DREAMBOAT. NOW HE’S LOOKING DIRECTLY AT HER WHILE HE SINGS. SHE HEARS THE INVITATION. SHE HASN’T A CLUE THAT HIS SENSUALITY HAS BEEN STYLED OVER THE YEARS TO EXUDE INTIMACY. SHE EASES FROM HER CRAMPED SEAT, EXPANDS TO HER HEIGHT, GOES BACKSTAGE IN THE BEAT DOWN PLAYHOUSE. SHE MEETS HIM IN THE DINGY HALLWAY TO HIS DRESSING ROOM. “HERE I AM,” SHE SAYS, THINKING HE RECOGNIZED HER AS HER MOTHER’S DAUGHTER, THINKING HER MOTHER WAS ON HIS MIND AS OFTEN AS HE WAS ON HER MOTHER’S. HE LOOKS HER OVER. “YOU’LL DO, DOLL”—BUNDLES HER INTO HIS ROOM, AWAY FROM THE SCURRYING STAGEHANDS, AND UNDOES HIS BELT AND ZIPPER. HIS PANTS SLIP TO HIS ANKLES. HE REACHES FOR THE TOP OF HER HEAD AND GUIDES HER DOWN. SHE OPENS HER MOUTH EITHER ABOUT TO PROTEST OR, LIKE A BABY BIRD, ABOUT TO BE FED. HE DOESN’T CONSIDER WHICH. HE PUTS HIS COCK INSIDE HER MOUTH. HE THRUSTS DEEP; SHE GAGS. HE JERKS BACK. “YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE DOING, DO YOU?” SHE CAN’T ANSWER; HER EYES ARE DROWNING. “AW,” HE SAYS, KNEELING DOWN IN FRONT OF HER. “YOU’RE A NEWBIE. IT’S A GAG REFLEX,” ALL SYMPATHY AND UNDERSTANDING. “I’LL SHOW YOU HOW TO GET PAST THAT.” HE PUTS TWO FINGERS IN HER MOUTH AND PUSHES THEM TO THE BACK OF HER THROAT. SHE RETCHES. HE WAITS FOR THE CONTRACTION TO STOP, THEN PUSHES HIS FINGERS FURTHER DOWN HER THROAT, PULLS THEM OUT. BACK AND IN, BACK OUT AND IN, UNTIL SHE’S DESENSITIZED TO THE MOVEMENT, CURED OF THE URGE TO PURGE HIM FROM HER BODY. HE STANDS UP, PLACES HIS COCK INTO HER MOUTH AGAIN. “SAY ‘PURPLE’,” HE SAYS. HER LIPS FORM A SEAL. HE HOLDS THE BACK OF HER HEAD STEADY WITH ONE HAND, HIS OTHER MANAGES THE WEIGHT OF HIS SHAFT, MOVES IT IN AND OUT UNTIL HE’S SATISFIED. SHE SWALLOWS, AFRAID TO SHOW HIM HOW DISTASTEFUL THIS IS—ON HER KNEES, THE ROPEY VISCOSITY OF CUM A FILM ON HER TEETH, THE TART, SNAPPED GREEN STICK SMELL OF IT DEEP IN HER NOSE. “OK, DOLL, OFF YOU GO. KEEP PRACTICING,” SMILING, LIGHT-HEARTED, PULLING UP HIS PANTS. “YOU’LL BE AT CARNEGIE HALL IN NO TIME.” A JOKE SHE GUESSES. HE PICKS UP ONE OF HER ARMS AND STUFFS SOME BILL IN HER HAND, PUSHES HER TO THE DOOR, OPENS IT FROM BEHIND HER, AND TRIES TO SHOVE HER OUT, BUT HER EXIT IS BLOCKED BY ANOTHER WOMAN STANDING JUST OUTSIDE THE DOORWAY, ARM RAISED AS IF TO KNOCK. “TRAFFIC SLOWED ME DOWN, I…,” THE OTHER WOMAN’S WORDS TRAIL OFF. SHE CATCHES SIGHT OF THE MONEY. “HEY! WHAT GIVES? THAT SHOULD BE MY MONEY.”

THE GEOGRAPHY OF DESIRE MARCO ETHERIDGE

YOUR FINGERTIPS DIG INTO THE FLESH AT THE NAPE OF HIS NECK, TEASING, PULLING, AS IF HE EVER NEEDED TO BE URGED. HIS MOUTH SLIDES DOWN THE LENGTH OF YOU, TAKING YOU IN AGAIN, LIPS, TONGUE, TEETH, THAT AMAZING THING ONLY HE CAN DO. THE ROLLER COASTER IS CLACKING UP THAT LONG INCLINE AND YOU’RE READY FOR THE DROP, SO READY. ANOTHER FEW HEARTBEATS, A FEW MORE STROKES OF HIS DELICIOUS MOUTH. YOU’LL THROW YOUR ARMS IN THE AIR, SCREAM, RIDE OUT THE LONG FALL. AND THEN HIS SKULL LIFTS AWAY FROM YOUR FINGERTIPS AND HE STOPS. YOU GROAN, LOOK DOWN THE LENGTH OF YOUR BELLY, AND HE’S GRINNING AT YOU, LIPS WET, YOUR SHAFT IN HIS HAND. HE’S RUBBING CIRCLES JUST UNDER YOUR GLANS WITH HIS THUMB. CIRCLES, SLIPPERY WET CIRCLES, AND YOU WANT TO BEG HIM NOT TO DO THIS, NOT TO STOP, NOT NOW. WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT HE WANTS. YOU CLUTCH TWO HANDFULS OF SHEET, DROP YOUR HEAD BACK TO THE PILLOW. DELAY, HESITATION, A RITUAL THE TWO OF YOU INVENTED, AND YOU MORE THAN HE. YOU THINK IT’S SO CLEVER AND WONDERFUL WHEN YOU’RE DOING IT TO HIM, HOLDING HIM AT THE EDGE BEFORE THE FALL. BLISS WHEN YOU ARE IN CONTROL, TORTURE WHEN THE TABLES ARE TURNED. AS THEY ARE THIS VERY MOMENT. THEN YOU HEAR THAT BEAUTIFUL BARITONE, THAT VOICE YOU LOVE SO MUCH. “THE CONTINENTS, NAME THE CONTINENTS OF SEX, THE ONES WE’VE SHARED.” THERE’S NO POINT IN ARGUING AND LESS IN BEGGING. THE GAME IS ON, THE PLAY OF DELAY, A TORTURE YOU WILL BE INFLICTING ON HIM OH SO SOON. BUT NOT YET, NOT UNTIL… “OKAY, WAIT. EUROPE.” YOUR VOICE IS RAGGED IN YOUR THROAT. HE GIGGLES, HIS THUMB STILL MAKING THOSE WONDERFUL, VICIOUS CIRCLES. YOUR BRAIN WANDERS OFF. “LUCKY US, THAT’S ONE. YOU’RE NOT GERMAN, BUT YOU HAVE A MAGNIFICENT HARDON.” A SQUEEZE, ANOTHER SLOW STROKE. YOU WANT TO BITE THE PILLOW.

“BUT SINCE WE’RE IN GERMANY, DOES THIS COUNT AS A GERMAN HARD-ON? I’VE NEVER HAD A GERMAN.” HIS LIPS SLIP OVER THE HEAD OF YOUR SHAFT, WRENCHING A GASP OUT OF YOUR THROAT, BUT THERE IS NO PLUNGE. ANOTHER TEASE. “C’MON, ONE DOWN, THREE AND A HALF TO GO” THEN HE’S FLICKING THE TIP OF HIS TONGUE OVER THE HEAD OF YOUR COCK, HIS FINGERS CRADLING YOUR BALLS. “MMMH… GEOGRAPHY IS SO SEXY. I’D HATE TO STOP, BUT I MIGHT HAVE TO.” “YOU’RE EVIL. YOU KNOW THAT, RIGHT?” “AND YOUR POINT IS?” THE WORLD SWIMS IN YOUR MEMORY, INCREDIBLE TRIPS WITH THIS INCREDIBLE MAN, YOUR MAN. SO MANY GUESTHOUSE BEDS COCOONED IN TROPICAL HEAT, THE SALTY SWEAT SLICK ACROSS THEIR BODIES. PASSING OUT, EXHAUSTED. THE RELIEF OF COOL SHOWERS AFTER. OR LANDSCAPES BITTER COLD, WRITHING UNDER PILES OF QUILTS, ENTWINED INTO EACH OTHER FOR WARMTH AND RELEASE. THE LITANY BECOMES CLEAR IN YOUR SEX-ADDLED BRAIN, AND YOU CROAK OUT THE NAMES, ONE BY ONE. “NORTH AMERICA, ASIA, SOUTH AMERICA. NO, WAIT, THAT WAS YOU WITH SOMEONE ELSE. BASTARD.” “DOESN’T COUNT IF IT WAS BEFORE I MET YOU. DISTANT PAST, HONEY. THAT’S FOUR. YOU’RE SO CLOSE, SO CLOSE.” HE SQUEEZES YOUR SHAFT, HIS TONGUE UNDER YOUR BALLS. ALMOST ENOUGH TO PUSH YOU OVER THE PRECIPICE. ALMOST, THE DELICATE PART OF THE RITUAL THAT HE IS SO GOOD AT. SO GOOD. THEN THE LAST NAME FALLS INTO PLACE. “SRI LANKA, NEAR INDIA. THE SUBCONTINENT. THAT’S THE HALF. FOUR AND A HALF.” ANOTHER SQUEEZE.

“HOW ABOUT ANTARCTICA?” “WHAT? WE’VE NEVER BEEN THERE.” “I KNOW, BUT LET’S PUT IT ON THE LIST. YOU CAN FUCK ME WHILE THE PENGUINS WATCH.” “RIGHT NOW, I’D FUCK YOU IN FRONT OF A POLAR BEAR.” “OOOOH, THAT WOULD BE EXCITING. BUT THERE AREN’T ANY POLAR BEARS IN ANTARCTICA, LOVER.” YOU ROLL YOUR SHOULDERS CLEAR OF THE MATTRESS, REACH FOR HIM, FINGERS IN HIS HAIR AND THUMBS CARESSING HIS TEMPLES. HE’S GRINNING THAT LOPSIDED GRIN, YOUR COCK TUCKED TO HIS CHEEK. THE STUBBLE ON HIS JAW GRATES AGAINST YOUR HYPERSENSITIVE FLESH. AN ELECTRIC SHIVER FLASHES UP YOUR SPINE. “ENOUGH, ALREADY. YOU’RE KILLING ME HERE.” HE LICKS THE HEAD OF YOUR SHAFT, HIS EYES LOCKED ON YOURS. “WHEN I DIE, THIS IS HOW I WANT TO GO.” THEN HIS EYES DROP AWAY, AND HIS HEAD SLIPS FROM YOUR HANDS AS HE TAKES YOU INTO HIS MOUTH. GREEDY, WANTING, NEEDING AS MUCH AS YOU DO. UP AND DOWN. THE RHYTHM BEATS A TATTOO INTO YOUR BRAIN. YOUR EYES SQUEEZE SHUT. THE RITUAL FALLS AWAY, AND YOUR HANDS FALL TO SHEETS, CLUTCHING HANDFULS OF SOFT COTTON. THEN EVERY NERVE ENDING FIRES AT ONCE, YOUR BODY ACHING, BACK ARCHING. BLESSED RELIEF SPASMS, AGAIN, AGAIN, UNTIL YOU’RE SPENT AND PANTING. YOU’RE PINNED TO THE BED, UNABLE TO RAISE YOUR HEAD. YOU FEEL THE LAST TOUCH OF HIS LIPS, THEN HIS HAND ENGULFING YOUR THROBBING COCK. THE SCRAPE OF STUBBLE AGAINST YOUR THIGH. HIS CHEEK RESTING THERE, WARM AGAINST YOU. YOU KNOW HE’S SMILING UP AT YOU, THE WAY HE ALWAYS DOES. THOUGHTS TRICKLE BACK INTO YOUR EMPTY SKULL. YOU WILL GET HIM BACK FOR THIS.

FUCK. CONTINENTS, MAKE HIM NAME THE COUNTRIES, TRACE THE PATH OF YOUR SEXUAL TRAVELS. BETTER YET, MAKE HIM NAME THEM IN ORDER. YOU REACH FOR HIM, FINGERTIPS CARESSING HIS TEMPLE. WHEN THE POWER OF SPEECH RETURNS YOUR VOICE IS A THROATY CROAK. “YOU’RE GOING TO PAY FOR THAT. COUNT ON IT.” ONE MORE SQUEEZE OF YOUR COCK, THEN HE LETS IT SLIP TO YOUR BELLY. “YOU BETTER KEEP THAT PROMISE, LOVER.” “DON’T I ALWAYS?”

YELLOW MATIAS TRAVIESO-DIAZ

MY NAME IS SCYLAX OF CARYANDA, AND AM KNOWN THROUGHOUT HELLAS AS “THE EXPLORER” FOR, IN THE COURSE OF OVER FIFTY YEARS, I HAVE TRAVELED TO ALL CORNERS OF THE KNOWN WORLD, MUCH OF THE TIME AT THE BEHEST OF MY PATRON, EMPEROR DAREIOS. I HAVE MADE IT MY PRACTICE TO WRITE SUMMARY ACCOUNTS OF THE MOST INTERESTING OBSERVATIONS IN MY TRAVELS ON WOODEN TABLETS SUCH AS THE ONE I AM USING. THIS IS THE TENTH TABLET, AND TEN BEING A PROPITIOUS NUMBER, IT IS FITTING THAT IT CONTAINS A DESCRIPTION OF A WONDROUS STORY THAT WAS RELATED TO ME ON A RECENT TRIP INTO THE LAND OF THE SCYTHIANS. THE SCYTHIANS ARE A NOMADIC PEOPLE THAT DWELL IN THE GRASSY, TREELESS LANDS THAT EXTEND IN BOTH DIRECTIONS FROM THE NORTHERN SHORE OF THE PONTUS EUXINUS, ALL THE WAY TO THE KAZAKH REGION OF ASIA. SINCE THEY HAVE NO CITIES BUT LIVE IN WAGONS AND TENTS, I CANNOT NAME WHERE THE STORY I AM ABOUT TO RELATE OCCURRED. THE BEST I CAN SAY IS THAT MY ENCOUNTER WITH THIS WILD, WARRIOR-LIKE PEOPLE TOOK PLACE NORTH OF THE RANGE OF THE KAUKASOS MOUNTAINS, BEYOND THE BOUNDARIES OF DAREIOS’ EMPIRE. I WAS TRAVELING ON HORSEBACK AND, AFTER THE ARDUOUS CROSSING OF THE MOUNTAINS, FOUND MYSELF COMING TO A TENT AND WAGON ENCAMPMENT BY A LARGE RIVER. IT WAS CLEARLY A MAJOR GATHERING PLACE FOR THESE BARBARIANS, FOR I ENCOUNTERED A HOST OF FULLY ARMED MEN, PATROLLING THE BOUNDS OF THEIR COMPOUND, CARRYING THEIR CUSTOMARY BOW AND ARROW CASES, IRON SPEARS, AXES, AND SHORT SWORDS, AND THE DAGGERS THEY CALL AKĪNAKĒS. THIS GROUP BELONGED TO THE SKŌLOTOI, THE MAIN SCYTHIAN TRIBE THAT RULES THE WHOLE OF SCYTHIA. THERE WERE NUMEROUS HEAD OF CATTLE AND HORSES UNDER THE CARE OF THE TRIBE’S WOMEN, SINCE MEN SPENT MOST OF THEIR LIVES ON HORSEBACK, MAKING WAR AGAINST OTHER RACES OF BARBARIANS AND EVEN, AT TIMES, AGAINST CIVILIZED PEOPLE. THE CHIEFTAIN OF THIS SETTLEMENT WAS AWAY ON SOME CAMPAIGN, SO I WAS RECEIVED BY HIS ONE OF HIS CONSORTS, WHO AGREED TO SEE ME ONCE I INDICATED TO ONE OF HER GUARDS THAT I WAS AN ENVOY OF EMPEROR DAREIOS THE GREAT, WHO HAD DEFEATED THE SCYTHIANS IN THE RECENT PAST AND NOW OCCUPIES MUCH OF THE SCYTHIAN LANDS TO THE EAST. THE LADY WAS NO LONGER IN THE FULL BLOOM OF YOUTH, AND HAD A DISFIGURING MOLE PROMINENTLY ON DISPLAY ON ONE OF HER CHEEKS. HER MANNER WAS FRIENDLY, HOWEVER, AND SHE GREETED ME GRACIOUSLY AND INVITED ME INTO HER WAGON AND BEGAN SERVING ME PIECES OF UNCOOKED HORSE MEAT AND WASHING THEM DOWN WITH KUMYS (FERMENTED MILK LIQUOR) AND UNDILUTED RED WINE, WHICH WE DRANK OUT OF THE TOPS OF ENEMIES’ SKULLS THAT HAD BEEN MADE INTO DRINKING BOWLS.

AS WE ATE AND DRANK, SHE RELATED TALES OF THE LIVES OF THE MEMBERS OF HER TRIBE AND THEIR MANY MILITARY CONQUESTS. WE BOTH BECAME SOMEWHAT INEBRIATED, SHE MORE THAN I. AT ONE POINT, SHE DECLARED: “I ROSE FROM MY EARLY LIFE AS A PEASANT TO BECOME A CONSORT OF IDANTHURSOS, RULER OF ALL OUR PEOPLES. MY ASCENSION TO A HIGHER RANK WAS A REWARD FOR AN ACT OF PERSONAL SACRIFICE I PERFORMED. IT WAS A HARD TASK, BUT I UNDERTOOK IT FOR THE GOOD OF OUR TRIBE.” I COULD NOT REFRAIN FROM ASKING: “WHAT SACRIFICE WAS THAT?” SHE ANSWERED MY QUESTION WITH ONE OF HER OWN: “HAVE YOU EVER HEAR OF A TARAND?” I SHOOK MY HEAD. “A TARAND IS AN ANIMAL AS BIG AS A BULL, WITH A HEAD LIKE A STAG’S, CROWNED

BY LARGE, POINTY, BRANCHED HORNS. IT HAS CLOVEN FEET, LONG THICK HAIR LIKE THAT OF A BEAR, AND A SKIN ALMOST AS HARD AS ARMOR. ITS MAIN PECULIARITY IS THAT IT ADOPTS THE COLOR OF THE THINGS THAT SURROUND IT, SO THAT IT IS ESSENTIALLY INVISIBLE UNLESS IT CHOOSES TO DISPLAY A PARTICULAR COLOR.” “THAT SEEMS LIKE A VERY INTERESTING BEAST” I REPLIED. “I WOULD LOVE TO SEE ONE.” “TARANDS ARE ONLY RARELY SEEN IN THESE PARTS, FOR THEIR NUMBERS ARE FEW AND THEIR ABILITY TO BLEND WITH THEIR SURROUNDINGS CONCEALS THEIR PRESENCE. THEY ARE ALSO SHY; DESPITE THEIR MASSIVE SIZE, MOST TARANDS CONTENT THEMSELVES WITH GRAZING IN THE MEADOWS, OUTSIDE AREAS OF HUMAN HABITATION.” “WHY ARE WE THEN TALKING ABOUT TARANDS?” “SEVERAL YEARS AGO, THROUGH A CAPRICE OF AHRIMAN OR SOME OTHER EVIL SPIRIT, A TARAND APPEARED IN OUR LAND THAT WAS UNLIKE ANY OTHER. IT WAS LARGER AND MORE POWERFUL THAN THOSE OF ITS KIND, AND WHEN IT CAME UPON OUR ENCAMPMENTS IT WOULD ATTACK AND DEVOUR OUR HORSES AND CATTLE, WHOSE HALF-EATEN CARCASSES WOULD BE FOUND STREWN ALL OVER OUR FIELDS. OUR MEN ORGANIZED HUNTING PARTIES SEEKING TO DISPATCH THE BEAST, BUT WERE UNABLE TO DO SO BECAUSE OF THE DIFFICULTY IN SEEING THE TARAND UNTIL IT WAS TOO LATE AND THE MONSTER WAS RIGHT NEXT TO THEM AND WAS ABLE TO ATTACK THEM. WE LOST MANY BRAVE WARRIORS THAT WAY.”

“SO, WHAT DID YOU DO?” “OUR PRIESTS OPINED THAT THE SACRIFICE OF A MAIDEN WOULD BE NECESSARY TO APPEASE THE TARAND AND DRIVE HIM AWAY. THAT CREATED A PROBLEM, BECAUSE AMONG US SCYTHIANS A GIRL BECOMES BETROTHED AT A VERY EARLY AGE, AND ASKING A YOUNG WOMAN TO GIVE UP HER LIFE TO BENEFIT THE TRIBE IS A GRIEVOUS OFFENSE AGAINST THE WARRIOR SHE IS BOUND TO MARRY. CONSEQUENTLY, ALL NAMES THAT WERE RAISED WERE CHALLENGED BY THE GIRL, HER FAMILY, AND THE INTENDED HUSBAND.” “THE CANDIDATE SELECTION REMAINED UNRESOLVED UNTIL SOMEONE MENTIONED MY NAME. I WAS KNOWN TO HAVE ENJOYED THE PLEASURES OF THE FLESH SINCE MY EARLY YEARS, AND HAD GONE THROUGH MY YOUTH UNCLAIMED BY ANY MAN BECAUSE OF MY APPEARANCE, SO SELECTING ME FOR THE SACRIFICE WAS LESS PROBLEMATIC. ON THE OTHER HAND, I WAS NO LONGER A MAIDEN. AT THE END, EXPEDIENCY WON THE DAY AND I WAS SELECTED FOR THE SACRIFICE.” “DID YOU CONSENT?” “A LONE WOMAN CANNOT PREVAIL AGAINST THE WILL OF A BAND OF FRIGHTENED MEN, AND I RELUCTANTLY HAD TO YIELD TO THEIR DECISION TO OFFER ME TO THE BEAST. SO, AN ALTAR IN THE FORM OF A BED OF FRAGRANT BRANCHES, LEAVES AND FLOWERS WAS CONSTRUCTED IN AN OPEN AREA IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR ENCAMPMENT, AND I WAS MADE TO LIE ON IT FROM SUNSET TO SUNRISE, IN EXPECTATION OF A VISIT BY THE TARAND. THIS WAS REPEATED TIME AND AGAIN UNTIL, IN THE FOURTH NIGHT, THERE WERE LOUD POUNDINGS ON THE GROUND AS AN UNSEEN BEAST APPROACHED THE SPOT WHERE I LAY. I WAS ANXIOUS WITH DREAD AND ALMOST ROSE TO ESCAPE; ONLY FEAR OF BEING SHOT TO DEATH BY THE HIDDEN WARRIORS STATIONED AROUND THE CLEARING FORCED ME TO LAY STILL AND AWAIT MY PROBABLE DEMISE.” “I FINALLY WAS ABLE TO DETECT THE APPROACHING MONSTER, OR AT LEAST PART OF IT. I SAW A VERY LARGE ROD THAT SHONE BRIGHT YELLOW UNDER THE LIGHT OF THE MOON, LIKE A GIGANTIC BANANA FROM INDIA. IT HOVERED ABOVE MY HEAD AND WAS CLEARLY MOVING IN MY DIRECTION. IT TOOK ME A FEW MOMENTS TO MAKE SENSE OF THE THING THAT WAS DRAWING THREATENINGLY CLOSE; THEN, REALIZATION CREPT INTO MY SENSES AND I UNDERSTOOD WHAT I WAS SEEING: A MONSTROUS MALE MEMBER, UNRECOGNIZABLE BECAUSE OF ITS INHUMAN LENGTH AND GIRTH, DRIPPING PRECUM AS IT CAME TOWARDS ME.” “I ROSE FROM THE ALTAR AND SAT, CROSS-LEGGED, WATCHING IN STUPEFIED HORROR AS THE TARAND CAME TO A HALT ABOVE ME...

...I STILL COULD ONLY SEE ITS FLOATING PENIS, BUT I WAS ENGULFED BY A DETESTABLE ANIMAL SMELL THAT MADE ME RETCH. FINALLY, THE MEMBER DESCENDED SLOWLY TOWARDS MY FACE, AND RUBBED IT COARSELY. THE TARAND WAS MAKING CLEAR WHAT IT WANTED.” “I WAS NOT SURE WHETHER IT SOUGHT TO HAVE INTERCOURSE WITH ME, BUT I WAS CERTAIN THAT SUCH AN ACT WOULD KILL ME IN A MOST HORRIBLE MANNER AND HAD TO BE AVOIDED. THEREFORE, I RESORTED TO A LOVEMAKING TECHNIQUE WITH WHICH I WAS FAMILIAR. I RAISED MY ARM SLOWLY, NOT TO STARTLE THE TARAND, AND HELD ITS PENIS IN MY HAND AND BROUGHT IT TO MY LIPS, WHEREUPON I KISSED IT VERY GENTLY. THE BEAST SHUDDERED AND ITS MEMBER, WHICH WAS ALREADY TWICE THE SIZE OF A HUMAN WARRIOR’S, SHOT OUT TO AN EVEN LARGER SIZE. I LICKED THE PRECUM GLISTENING ON ITS SURFACE, AND HOLDING IT IN MY HAND, INSERTED THE MEMBER IN MY MOUTH. I PRESSED THE SHAFT WITH MY LIPS AND TOOK IT OUT SLOWLY, MAKING THE ANIMAL SHUDDER WITH ANTICIPATION.” “I THEN PROCEEDED TO LICK THE MEMBER UP AND DOWN ITS ENTIRE LENGTH, AND CARESSED ITS END WITH MY TONGUE BEFORE REINSERTING IT IN MY MOUTH. THE TARAND POUNDED THE GROUND WITH ITS HOOVES, RELEASING A CLOUD OF DIRT INTO THE AIR, AND ISSUED A HOARSE UTTERANCE THAT SEEMED BOTH A PROTEST AND A SHOUT OF PLEASURE. I PUT ABOUT HALF OF THE MEMBER’S LENGTH INTO MY DISTENDED MOUTH AND STARTED SUCKING, BEING CAREFUL NOT TO BITE INTO THE ROUGH FLESH. I WAS IN NO POSITION TO OBSERVE THE BODY OF THE BEAST IN ITS ENTIRETY, BUT IT SEEMED THAT IT WAS NO LONGER CHANGING COLORS AND THE HAIRS COVERING ITS BODY HAD ASSUMED A VISIBLE REDDISH HUE, AS IF BLOOD WAS COURSING VIOLENTLY THROUGH THE BEAST’S VEINS.” “I THEN PUT THE WHOLE ROD INTO MY MOUTH, AND PRESSED IT TO THE VERY END, AS IF I WERE GOING TO SWALLOW IT UP. I WAS CLOSE TO GAGGING, AND WOULD HAVE RETCHED IF MY FULLY OCCUPIED THROAT HAD ALLOWED IT. THE TARAND SHOOK VIOLENTLY AND DISCHARGED A BITTER FLUID INTO THE BACK OF MY THROAT WHICH IMMEDIATELY OVERFLOWED MY ORAL CAVITY AND BEGAN DRIPPING OUT OF THE CORNERS OF MY MOUTH.” “IT WAS THE FOULEST SUBSTANCE I EVER TASTED, AND I FINALLY MANAGED TO THROW IT UP, TOGETHER WITH THE WHOLE CONTENTS OF MY STOMACH; ABOVE ME, THE TARAND WAS MEWLING WITH WHAT I ASSUME MUST HAVE BEEN PLEASURE – A SOUND THAT TURNED INTO SHEETS OF PAIN AS A CLOUD OF ARROWS PIERCED ITS IMMENSE BODY. I HAD THE PRESENCE OF MIND TO QUICKLY CRAWL TO THE SIDE AS THE ARCHERS IN MY CONSORT’S PERSONAL GUARD PELTED THE BEAST WITH VOLLEY AFTER VOLLEY OF PROJECTILES.”

“I MUST HAVE FAINTED, FOR MY NEXT RECOLLECTION IS ONE OF BEING CARRIED AWAY BY TWO SOLDIERS. MY LAST LOOK AT THE CLEARING WHERE I HAD LAIN SHOWED THE TARAND, TWISTING IN AGONY AS A DOZEN ARROWS PROTRUDED FROM ITS BODY. THE BEAST WAS BEING HACKED TO PIECES BY SEVERAL MEN BRANDISHING BATTLE AXES. BLOOD, BITS OF FLESH, THE TARAND’S DISCHARGES, VOMIT, AND GORE LITTERED THE GROUND. IT WAS CARNAGE ON A SCALE I HAD NEVER WITNESSED BEFORE AND HOPE NOT TO EVER SEE AGAIN.” SHE MUST HAVE OBSERVED THE DISGUST SHOWING ON MY FACE ONCE HER RECITATION WAS OVER, FOR SHE SMILED BEATIFICALLY AND ADDED: “SO, I ACCOMPLISHED TWO GOOD DEEDS THAT NIGHT: I SAVED MY PEOPLE FROM THE THREAT FROM A FEROCIOUS BEAST, AND GAVE A POOR ANIMAL ONE FINAL PLEASURE BEFORE ITS DEMISE.” SHE PAUSED FOR A MOMENT AND ADDED: “AND, ALTOGETHER, IT WAS NOT AS DISTASTEFUL AS SOME COUPLINGS I HAVE BEEN FORCED TO ENDURE THROUGHOUT THE YEARS.” WITH THAT, HER EXPERIENCED THROAT FINISHED THE REST OF HER CUP OF RED WINE IN A SINGLE GULP. I ASKED TO SEE THE REMAINS OF THE TARAND BUT SHE INDICATED THAT THE DEAD ANIMAL HAD BEEN CAST INTO THE RIVER THAT FLOWED BY THE SCYTHIAN CAMP AND HAD BEEN CARRIED AWAY BY THE CURRENT. THUS, I HAVE NO WAY TO CORROBORATE THE LADY’S STORY, BUT I OFFER IT AS PROOF OF THE SAVAGE AND DEBAUCHED NATURE OF THE SCYTHIANS AND THE WILDNESS OF THE LANDS THEY OCCUPY. PERHAPS SOMEDAY ANOTHER TRAVELER WILL BE ABLE TO CONFIRM THE EXISTENCE OF THIS FABULOUS ANIMAL OR DEMONSTRATE THAT THE LURID TALE THE WOMAN RELATED TO ME AROSE FROM HER DEBASED IMAGINATION, FANNED BY THE BARBAROUS TRADITIONS OF HER PEOPLE.

GREASEPAINT CASANOVA KARL KOWESKI

IT WAS FOOD GALAXY’S GRAND OPENING EXTRAVAGANZA, AND I REPRESENTED THE “SPECIAL GUEST” IN BOLD PRINT ON ALL THE FLYERS SCATTERED ACROSS THE NEIGHBORHOOD. I STOOD TO THE RIGHT OF THE AUTOMATIC DOORS LIKE A PAISLEY FIRE HYDRANT FOR ALL THE PUPPIES TO PISS ON. THE TEMPERATURE, I SWEAR TO BOZO, CREPT NORTH OF 110 DEGREES. HEAT BAKED OFF THE SIDEWALK AND CINDERBLOCK WALLS. SWEAT AND GREASEPAINT ROLLED DOWN MY FACE LIKE MELTED CANDLEWAX. THE OCCASIONAL GUSTS OF AIR-CONDITIONED BREEZE FROM THE OPENING DOORS OFFERED THE BRIEFEST RESPITE FROM SELF-ANNIHILATION. I WANTED TO GO HOME TO MY OWN SLICE OF STUDIO APARTMENT HELL. I WANTED TO PEEL OFF THIS GREEN, YELLOW, PURPLE POLKA-DOTTED AND ORANGE PAISLEY CLOWN SUIT AND CRACK OPEN A BOTTLE OF BEER. “I WANTED A DINOSAUR.” THE LITTLE KID STANDING IN FRONT OF ME ACTED LIKE I OWED HIM TWENTY DOLLARS. WE LOOKED AT THE GREEN BALLOON IN HIS HAND. I’D CONTORTED INTO THE SAME SHAPE I CALLED EITHER A DOG, OR A CAT, OR A HORSE, OR WHATEVER THE FUCK KIND OF ANIMAL THE KID REQUESTED. YOU COULD MAKE OUT FOUR DIGITS JUTTING OUT FROM A SLENDER BODY TOPPED WITH WHAT COULD PASS AS A HEAD. IF YOU SQUINTED YOUR EYES. “THAT IS A DINOSAUR, KID.” “THAT’S NO DINOSAUR.” THE KID’S VOICE EDGED TOWARD HYSTERICS. I LOOKED AT HIS MOTHER, A DOUR BITCH IF EVER ONE WALKED THE EARTH. SHE LOOKED AT ME LIKE YOU BETTER START SHITTING OUT A DINOSAUR FROM SOMEWHERE OR THIS KID IS GOING TO MAKE THE REST OF YOUR LIFE A LIVING HELL LIKE MINE. I TOOK THE BALLOON CREATURE BACK AND WITHDREW A SILLY, SQUIGGLY PEN FROM MY POCKET. I INTENDED TO DRAW SOME MEAN EYES AND SHARP TEETH ON THE HEAD NUB. THE MOMENT THE PEN TIP TOUCHED GREEN SKIN; THE BALLOON POPPED. THE KID JUMPED BACK AND HOWLED. YOU’D HAVE THOUGHT I SHOT HIM IN THE FOOT BY HIS REACTION. THE MOTHER CALLED ME A JACKASS AND ANNOUNCED FOR ALL TO HEAR THAT SHE WAS NEVER SHOPPING AT FOOD GALAXY AGAIN.

THAT’S FINE. BETWEEN THE WAL-MART ON THE EDGE OF TOWN AND THE DOLLAR GENERALS THAT WERE CROPPING UP WHEREVER SOMEONE THREW A CINDERBLOCK, FOOD GALAXY WOULD BE LUCKY TO TURN A PROFIT BETWEEN NOW AND ETERNITY. I’M EMBARRASSED TO SAY I WENT TO CLOWN COLLEGE FOR THIS. AN ACTUAL CLOWN COLLEGE WHERE YOU LEARN SHIT LIKE UNICYCLING, DRAMATURGY, AND HOW TO RIDE AN ELEPHANT. FIFTEEN THOUSAND DOLLARS TUITION, I HADN’T SEEN THE FIRST DAMN ELEPHANT… “DON’T YOU JUST LOVE KIDS?” AH, CHRIST, THE MANAGER. IF I BLEW ANOTHER COMMISSION FOR THE CLOWN RENTAL AGENCY, CLOWNS AROUND, I’D BE TOOTING MY HORN AND SQUIRTING WATER OUT OF MY FUNNY FLOWER ON THE STREET CORNER FOR SPARE CHANGE. “I ABSOLUTELY ADORE CHILDREN. THEY’RE OUR FUTURE…” SHE WASN’T THE MANAGER. NOT DRESSED THIS SEXY, SHE WASN’T. I COULDN’T SAY FOR SURE SHE WAS EVEN A SHOPPER. THE WAY SHE DRESSED PROVOCATIVELY, TWO STRANDS OF LACE SHORT OF WHOREDOM, LOITERING NEAR MY HELIUM TANK, SORT OF JUST HANGING OUT. I KNEW WHAT SHE WAS IMMEDIATELY. A CLOWN GROUPIE. “I HATE THOSE LITTLE FUCKERS,” I SAID. I TOOTED MY HORN FOR EMPHASIS. SHE HAD DARK, SHORT-CROPPED HAIR, SMALL BUTTON NOSE, LARGE ANIME EYES. PALE GREEN EYES, THE SORT OF COLOR YOU RARELY FIND IN A CLOWN COSTUME. THE SORT OF COLOR YOU RARELY FIND LOOKING AT A NUMBSKULL DRESSED IN A CLOWN COSTUME. SHE WAS THE SORT OF WOMAN I WOULD DATE IF I POSSESSED THE GOOD LOOKS AND EXTROVERTED PERSONALITY NEEDED TO WIN OVER SUCH A LOVELY CREATURE. “HELL OF AN ATTITUDE FOR A CLOWN,” SHE SAID. “I LIKE IT.” “I DON’T DEFINE MYSELF BY MY OCCUPATION.” “WELL, THAT’S GOOD TO KNOW. MY NAME’S BRANDY.” “I’M YARBLES THE CLOWN.” I GAVE THE HORN ANOTHER TOOT.

SHE LOOKED DOWN AT MY SHOES, THOSE STUPID RED PANCAKES JUTTING FROM MY ANKLES. “IS IT TRUE WHAT THEY SAY ABOUT CLOWNS WITH BIG FEET?” SHE ASKED. “ACTUALLY,” I SIGHED, FIGURING SHE WAS ONLY ABOUT FIVE MINUTES AND TWENTYFIVE FEET AWAY FROM FINDING OUT THE TRUTH, ANYWAY. “YOU KNOW HOW CLOWNS ARE ALWAYS CRYING ON THE INSIDE?” “YEAH.” “THERE’S A REASON FOR THAT. AND IT’S GOT SOMETHING TO DO WITH THE UNREAL EXPECTATIONS IN REGARD TO DICK SIZES RELATING TO SHOE SIZE.” “THAT’S TRAGIC, YARBLES. BUT LET ME ASK YOU SOMETHING. IS IT ALL BALLOONS ALL THE TIME WITH YOU OR DO YOU CATCH A BREAK NOW AND THEN?” “I’M NOT REALLY THAT MUCH OF A HELIUM ARTIST IF I’M BEING TRUTHFUL. I’M MORE OF A JUGGLING CLOWN.” “JUGGLING CLOWN?” “YEAH. TONGUE-JUGGLING THOSE TITTIES.” “LISTEN TO YOU. AREN’T YOU THE SMOOTH TALKER? CAN YOU GET AWAY FOR A LITTLE BIT?” “YES, BUT NOT TOO FAR AWAY. I’VE GOT MY VAN OVER THERE. IT’S THE TEAL, FUSCIA, AND MARIGOLD VAN WITH THE LAVENDER BOW TIE ON THE BUMPER.” “SUBTLE. IS IT COMFY IN THE BACK?” “I THINK SO.” I’D CERTAINLY SLEPT OFF MANY A DRUNKS WITHIN THE BLANKETED CONFINES. I HUNG MY “BACK IN FIVE MINUTES” SIGN AROUND THE HELIUM TANK AND LED BRANDY TO THE BACK OF THE VAN THANKING BOZO I NO LONGER OWNED THAT BULLSHIT PLAID VOLKSWAGEN BEETLE. SURE, YOU COULD HAVE SQUEEZED FIFTEEN CLOWNS INTO THE VW, BUT TRY FUCKING A 5’9 CLOWN GROUPIE IN THE BACK SEAT, AND YOU’D FIND YOURSELF PEDALING YOUR UNICYCLE TO THE CHIROPRACTOR THREE TIMES A WEEK.

I TOOK A QUICK GLANCE AROUND THE MOSTLY EMPTY PARKING LOT. NO CURIOUS SOCCER MOMS. NO GANGS OF WAYWARD CHILDREN. I POPPED OPEN THE BACK DOORS AND WE HOPPED INSIDE. THE INTERIOR WAS DIMLY LIT FROM WHAT LIGHT FILTERED THROUGH THE FRONT WINDSHIELD. I CLICKED ON THE SMALL LIGHT ABOVE THE VANITY MIRROR ON THE DRIVER’S SIDE WALL WHERE I APPLIED MY GREASEPAINT. BRANDY WAS THE SORT OF WOMAN WHOSE BODY DESERVED TO BE WELL-LIT, AS OPPOSED TO THE USUAL TYPE I ENTERTAINED WHO WORKED BETTER WITH DARKNESS AND IMAGINATION. “IS THIS WHERE THE MAGIC HAPPENS?” “EH… I DON’T DABBLE IN MAGIC TRICKS. MOSTLY JUGGLING. SOME ELEPHANT RIDING…” BRANDY KNEELED IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR. I HUNKERED BEHIND HER, ADMIRING THE WAY THE FABRIC OF HER BLACK DRESS MELDED WITH HER FIRM ASS. SHE SURVEYED MY CLOWN PARAPHERNALIA, MY ASSORTMENT OF GREASEPAINT, THE BRIGHTLY COLORED WIGS HANGING OFF HOOKS LIKE COTTON CANDY MERKIN. BRANDY MOTIONED TO THE BASE WHITE GREASEPAINT. “MIND IF I GET INTO CHARACTER?” “HELP YOURSELF. YOU MIGHT WANT TO TAKE YOUR SHIRT OFF FIRST, THOUGH. GREASEPAINT IS A BITCH TO GET OFF DARK FABRIC.” HER REFLECTION SMILED. SHE PEELED OFF HER BLOUSE IN ONE QUICK MOTION, MAKING HER BREASTS JOUNCE. BRALESS. GRAVITY DID NOTHING TO THWART THE PERKINESS. AMONG A CAVALCADE OF OTHER TATTOOS MOTTLING HER TORSO, THERE WAS A CONGLOMERATION OF SEVEN STARS INKED ON HER LOWER BACK. “I LIKE YOUR TATTOOS,” I WHISPERED, MY RED, BULBOUS NOSE PRESSING AGAINST HER EAR. MY COCK, HARD AS A JUGGLING PIN, PRESSED AGAINST THE NORTHERN MOST STAR TATTOOED ON HER BACK. “I LIKE YOUR FACE,” SHE SAID AS SHE APPLIED THE FIRST DAB OF GREASEPAINT ACROSS HER FOREHEAD. “WHAT WAS THE INSPIRATION FOR YOUR TEMPLATE?” JOHN WAYNE GACY. “NO ONE REALLY. JUST NEEDED SOMETHING RELATIVELY EASY. SINCE I’M ALWAYS RUNNING LATE.”

MY ANSWER SEEMED TO DISAPPOINT HER. I MASSAGED HER SHOULDERS AS SHE RUBBED HER FACE MIME WHITE. “YOUR FRILLY CUFFS TICKLE.” I APOLOGIZED, AND SHE TOLD ME NOT TO. IT FELT GOOD. WHEN I TRIED TO UNBUTTON MY CLOWN SUIT, SHE STOPPED ME. “LEAVE IT ON,” SHE SAID. “I WANT TO FUCK A CLOWN, NOT SOME BUM IN MAKE-UP. YOU GOT A PISS HOLE YOU CAN PULL YOUR COCK THROUGH?” “YEAH, BUT, DAMN, IT’S HOT IN HERE.” “IT’S ABOUT O GET A WHOLE LOT HOTTER,” SHE PROMISED. BRANDY UNBUTTONED HER JEANS, SLID THE DENIM DOWN HER HIPS. HER PANTIES MATCHED HER BRA, WHICH IS TO SAY, SHE WORE NEITHER. IT WOULD PROBABLY ALARM SOME FOLKS TO HEAR I DON’T WEAR UNDERWEAR UNDER MY CLOWN SUIT, EITHER. I UNBUTTONED THE PISS HOLE IN MY CLOWN SUIT AND SNAKED OUT MY COCK. BRANDY GIGGLED A BIT, BUT I DIDN’T MIND AS MUCH AS I ORDINARILY WOULD. GOOD THING ABOUT DRESSING UP LIKE A CLOWN, IF YOU PULL OUT YOUR SLIDE WHISTLE WHILE IN UNIFORM AND THE WOMAN LAUGHS, IT IS NOT AS HUMILIATING AS IT MIGHT OTHERWISE BE. BRANDY HAD NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. THE BEAUTY OF HER FACE, THE PERFECTION OF HER BREASTS EXTENDED DOWN THE LENGTH OF HER TONED BODY. I SOAKED HER IN. THE CONTOURS OF HER FIRM LEGS CURVED INTO HER TIGHT ASS. A QUICK MOVEMENT OF HER LEGS AND I CAUGHT A GLIMPSE OF HER TRIMMED PUBIC HAIR POINTING DOWN TO HER CHUBBY PUSSY LIPS. SHE KNEELED AGAIN IN FRONT OF THE MIRROR; THE REFLECTION OF HER PLAYFUL GREEN EYES WAS MESMERIZING. SHE LEANED FORWARD APPLYING RED ROUGE ALONG THE BASE OF HER JAW AND THE CORNER OF HER FOREHEAD IN SPLOTCHES CREATING A SORT OF RASPBERRY RORSCHACH. I CRAWLED BEHIND HER LIKE A CLOWNISH CATERPILLAR AND KISSED HER ASS CHEEKS. I KISSED EACH ONE OF THE SEVEN STARS STIPULATING HER LOWER BACK. I FOLLOWED HER SPINE WITH KISSES, UP HER BACK, ALONG HER SHOULDERS. I KNEADED HER ASS, SPREADING HER CHEEKS, SQUEEZING THEM TOGETHER, MOVING MY HANDS ALONG HER HIPS, PULLING HER ASS AGAINST MY GROIN, FEELING MY CIRCUS TENT POLE SLIDING BETWEEN HER MOIST LIPS, FINALLY PIERCING HER WET, SQUIRTING FLOWER.

BRANDY GROANED AND BRACED HERSELF AGAINST THE TABLE. “NOT TOO FAST, YARBLES. YOU’RE GONNA MESS UP MY MAKE-UP.” SHE MADE A BLACK LINE ACROSS HER LIPS AND BISECTED EACH LINE FROM ONE END OF HER MOUTH TO THE OTHER AS THOUGH HER LIPS WERE STITCHED. SHE MADE A HEART ON HER FOREHEAD WHILE I DIPPED MY FINGERS IN RED ROUGE AND RUBBED HER NIPPLES ERECT. SHE TITLED HER HEAD BACK AGAINST ME AND SIGHED, TWINING HER ARMS AROUND MY HEAD, PULLING ME BY MY ORANGE WIG UNTIL OUR LIPS TOUCHED AND OUR TONGUES MIDGET WRESTLED. MY LEFT HAND UNCLASPED HER NIPPLE AND DIPPED INTO MY POCKET BEFORE TRAILING DOWN HER XYLOPHONE RIB CAGE AND TRAMPOLINE BELLY. WITH MY COCK HALFWAY INSIDE HER, I FRIGGED HER CLIT WITH THE TIP OF MY FINGERS BEFORE PRESSING MY JOY BUZZER RING AGAINST HER CUNT. BRANDY SPASMED INSTANTLY, BODY WRITHING IN MY ARMS. I COULD FEEL MY COCK TINGLING INSIDE HER. “OH MY FUCKING GOD.” SHE KNOCKED MY HAND AWAY BEFORE THE JOY BUZZER COULD INDUCE SEIZURES. SHE SMILED HER STITCHED LIPS AND TOOK A RED PRINCE VALIANT WIG OFF THE HOOK, PUTTING IT ON TOP OF HER SHORT BLACK HAIR. SHE PUSHED ME BACK UNTIL I DISMOUNTED HER. SHE SAT AT THE END OF THE VANITY AND SPREAD HER LEGS. SHE RUBBED HER PUSSY, SPLAYING HER LIPS OPEN WITH TWO FINGERS. “WHAT DO YOU THINK? WOULD I MAKE A GOOD CLOWN? YOU CAN CALL ME PUSSYWILLOW THE CLOWN.” “MMM. IF THERE WERE MORE CLOWNS LIKE YOU, PUSSYWILLOW, I WOULD HAVE STAYED IN THE CIRCUS.” “SWEET TALKER. HOW ABOUT PUTTING THAT SWEET TALKING TONGUE TO LICKING MY PUSSY.” THAT WAS ONE CLOWN REQUEST I WAS HAPPY TO HONOR. I BOWED BEFORE HER AND USED MY TONGUE TO TRY AND TWIST HER CLIT INTO A BALLOON DINOSAUR. BRANDY DRAPED HER LEGS ACROSS MY SHOULDERS, AND I CUPPED HER ASS IN MY HANDS, PRESSING MY SPONGEY CLOWN NOSE AGAINST HER PUBIC BONE, DIPPING MY TONGUE INTO HER SOFT, WET TRENCH. HER CUNT WAS LIKE A COTTON CANDY FUNNEL CAKE EXCEPT BETTER. SWEETER.

MY TONGUE WAS A SUPER-CHARGED ELECTRO-FANTASTIC PINWHEEL, A STEROID FRENZIED CONTORTIONIST FITTING HIMSELF INTO A VELVET-LINED BOX. I STUCK AN EXPLORATORY FINGER UP HER ASS AND SHE REACTED WITH THE SAME ENTHUSIASM THE JOY BUZZER INSTILLED. AND FOR ONCE IN MY LIFE, I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE SUCH A FUCKING CLOWN. EVEN WHEN SHE GRIPPED MY CURLY, ORANGE WIG AND PULLED IT DOWN OVER MY EYES. TEN MINUTES STRETCHED LIKE TAFFY. I FINALLY LET OFF HER PUSSY AND TOOK A MUCH-NEEDED BREATH. BRANDY TOOK MY PURPLE BALLOON ANIMAL AND HID IT IN HER MOUTH. HER GREEN EYES LIKE FLECKS OF JADE ON IVORY GLINTED WITH PLEASURE. HER CRIMSON WIG BOBBED WITH HER COCK SUCKING MOTION. SHE GRABBED MY FLUFFY CLOWN BUTTONS LIKE CIRCUS CHAKRAS AND FONDLED THEM WHICH SEEMED TO REV HER MOTOR. SHE STARTED MAKING MOTORBOAT SOUNDS AS SHE SLOBBED MY CLOWN KNOB AND DIPPED DOWN TO SUCKLE AND TONGUE JUGGLE MY CLOWN BALLS. I KNOW SHE DIDN’T HAVE A JOY BUZZER IN HER MOUTH, BUT IT SURE FELT LIKE SHE DID. JUST AS I REACHED A CRESCENDO WHICH WOULD HAVE SURELY SENT ME DOING BACK FLIPS THROUGH THE VAN’S INTERIOR, SHE POPPED MY COCK OUT OF HER MOUTH LIKE A CHAMPAGNE CORK. “YOU TASTE LIKE LICORICE,” SHE SAID, MYSTERIOUSLY. “WELL, YOU MIND IF I STICK MY LICORICE IN YOUR CANDY JAR?” I LAID HER DOWN ON A BLANKET I KEPT FOR JUST SUCH OCCASIONS. I MOUNTED HER WITH THE CONFIDENCE OF A TRAPEZE ARTIST. PUSHING MY WIG UP OUT OF MY EYES, I WAS ABLE TO WATCH HER BREASTS MOVE UP AND DOWN WITH THE RHYTHM OF MY STROKE LIKE TWO MOTORCYCLES RIDING AROUND INSIDE AN IRON BALL. IT WAS SO HOT IN MY CLOWN SUIT, I SWEAR TO BOZO, STEAM PUFFED OUT OF THE CLOWN SUIT’S HOLES AS I THRUST IN AND OUT OF HER WET PUSSY. IT WAS ALL I COULD DO TO FIND TRACTION WITH THOSE FUCKING CLOWN SHOES TIED TO MY FEET LIKE FRYING PANS. I PUSHED HER LEGS BACK TO HER EARS, BENT DOWN UNTIL WE WERE CLOWN FACE TO CLOWN FACE. SHE CAUGHT MY NOSE IN HER TEETH AND SPIT OUT RED FOAM. WE KISSED LONG AND DEEP, GREASEPAINT SMEARING UNTIL WE RESEMBLED GHOULS MORE THAN CLOWNS.

I FUCKED HER AS WELL I COULD WHICH, YOU KNOW, WITH POOR CIRCULATION DUE TO THE CHAFFING OF MY CLOWN SUIT, KEPT MY COCK FROM ATTAINING THE LENGTH AND GIRTH THAT IT SHOULD HAVE HAD, IF I’M BEING COMPLETELY HONEST. I KISSED THE TINY FLOWERS TATTOOED AROUND HER THROAT BEFORE REARING BACK, GRABBING HER ANKLES AND SPREADING HER LEGS AS I PUMPED VIGOROUSLY. I HAD TO MAKE A SHOW OF IT, NOW, BECAUSE I FELT MY STAMINA WEARING THIN. “FUCK ME, CLOWN. FUCK ME HARD, YARBLES.” BRANDY GRABBED ME BY THE VERMILLION COLLAR AND PULLED ME ONTO MY BACK. SHE TOOK MY COCK AND RAN HER TONGUE UP AND DOWN THE SHAFT BEFORE TURNING AROUND AND GIVING ME AN EYEFUL OF HER SPECTACULAR ASS, ARCHING HER BACK UNTIL I COULD SEE HER PUCKERED ASSHOLE AND THE CUM SLICK PUSSY SLUNG UNDERNEATH. SHE EASED MY COCK INTO HER CARNIVAL OF PLEASURES AND RODE ME REVERSE COWGIRL, BENDING FORWARD SO SHE COULD PLAY WITH MY CLOWN SHOES. SHE BOUNCED ON MY COCK AS THOUGH MY GROIN WERE A TRAMPOLINE. I COULDN’T HOLD OFF ANY LONGER. ALL MY LITTLE CLOWNS GATHERED IN MY CLOWN SACK WERE READY TO CHARGE INTO BRANDY’S TIGHT PINK CLOWN CAR. I PULLED OUT. BRANDY WHIPPED AROUND. SHE JERKED MY COCK TWICE BEFORE I ADDED MY OWN STICKY GREASEPAINT TO HER CHIN AND LIPS, DOWN HER NECK, ADDING A PEARL NECKLACE TO HER TATTOOED FLOWER CHOKER. SHE SWIPED THE HEAD OF MY COCK AGAINST HER ROUGED NIPPLES. HER WIG HAD COME OFF IN THE FUCKING MAYHEM. I’D FLIPPED MY WIG A FEW MOMENTS EARLIER. WE KNEELED THERE, GASPING AND PANTING, GIGGLING A LITTLE BIT. I REACHED OVER AND KISSED HER, TASTING CUM AND GREASEPAINT. “YOU MAY BE THE BEST CLOWN I’VE EVER FUCKED,” SHE SAID. “AND I’VE FUCKED A LOT OF THEM.” “OH.” “WELL, HAVE A GOOD LIFE, YARBLES. MAYBE I’LL CHECK YOU OUT AGAIN NEXT TIME THE CIRCUS IS IN TOWN.” I WATCHED HER DRESS AND THEN EXIT THE VAN, FACE STILL SMEARED WITH CLOWN REMAINS.

OUTSIDE, I COULD HEAR THE KIDDIES SCREAMING FOR THEIR BALLOON ANIMALS. I SLOUCHED IN THE HOT INTERIOR OF MY SILLY VAN AND TRIED TO WAIT THEM OUT.

THAT LINGERING ATTRACTION BILL WOLAK

REFLECT STACEY HARRIS

THE FIRST TIME YOU HAPPEN TO CATCH A GLIMPSE, IT’S ACCIDENTAL AND ALMOST EMBARRASSING. IT’S STRANGE TO SEE YOURSELF IN THIS WAY: MOUTH AGAPE, EYES AT HALF MAST, BREATHING IN RAGGED GASPS WHILE HE WORKS HIS MAGIC ON YOU. IT ALMOST FEELS WRONG TO LOOK. SO WHEN YOU LOOK AGAIN, IT FEELS LIKE YOU’RE BREAKING THE RULES. THERE’S A NEW INTIMACY THERE. A RAW VULNERABILITY. YOUR CURVES ARE DISPLAYED IN ALL THEIR GLORY WHILE HIS PALM REDDENS YOUR SKIN AND HIS FINGERTIPS TRACE THE LINE OF YOUR JAW. THERE’S A TENDERNESS BENEATH THE URGENCY; IT’S HARD TO SEE BUT YOU CAN JUST MAKE IT OUT IF YOU SQUINT. BEHIND THE LUST AND SPARKS AND GUTTURAL SOUNDS IS SOMETHING SOFTER, MORE REAL, AND YOU CAN’T ALWAYS RECOGNIZE IT WHEN YOU’RE IN THE MIDDLE OF THINGS, OR WHEN YOUR EYES ARE CLOSED AND YOU’RE SCREAMING HIS NAME LIKE IT’S A RITUAL – BUT ONCE YOU’VE LAID EYES ON IT YOU CAN’T UNSEE IT. AND THE ONLY WAY TO SEE IT, IS TO SLOW DOWN AND LOOK IN THE MIRROR. THE WAY HIS HAND ENCIRCLES YOUR THROAT. THE WAY HE MOVES YOU – PLACES YOU WHERE HE NEEDS YOU TO BE. IT’S POWERFUL. THE WAY HE LOOKS AT YOU, BREATHES IN THE SMELL OF YOU, PULLS YOUR HAIR OUT OF YOUR FACE, THEN STEADIES HIMSELF FOR WHAT’S COMING. IF YOU’RE LUCKY, HE’LL TAKE YOUR CHIN IN HIS HAND AND MAKE YOU WATCH THE TWO OF YOU MELDED TOGETHER IN A MESS OF LIMBS, SLICK WITH SWEAT. THE WAY THE LIGHT PLAYS OVER YOUR SKIN. THE WAY YOUR HAIR IS MATTED TO YOUR FOREHEAD. IF YOU’RE LUCKY YOU’LL SEE HIS EYES GLAZE OVER IN REAL TIME, FROM MULTIPLE ANGLES. IF YOU’RE LUCKY, YOU’LL BE ABLE TO PINPOINT THE EXACT MOMENT THAT YOU WERE THE MOST POWERFUL PERSON IN THE ROOM.

ELF GEMMA MOONEY

MY NAILS TAPPED THE SWEATING BOTTLE OF CHAMPAGNE, THINKING OF YOUR BACK. A LONG KISS ARRIVED AT THE TABLE FORTY-FIVE MINUTES LATE. SNEAKING OUT TONIGHT WAS CHALLENGING. I ONLY TOOK THREE SLOW BITES AND ONE LONG SIP, WORRIED ABOUT YOUR LOVELESS MARRIAGE. LAUGHING, MY HEELED FOOT WRAPPED AROUND YOUR ANKLE. CONVERSING, YOUR FINGERS MAPPING MY PALM. LEAVING, WITH YOUR HAND UP MY SKIRT, WE PROCLAIMED OUR LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME. YOU CALLED ME AN ANGEL IN MY WHITE DRESS AS I CRAWLED ONTO YOUR LAP IN THE BACK OF YOUR WHITE EXPLORER. BUCKLED IN, MY HUSBAND TEXTED ME CURIOUSLY.

“JIGSAW” DIMITRI FERRAZ