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fect grace and sonority: “Pay to fuck me!” The thing about Candy was that she was about a couple hours away; though a vast stretch of long, winding road, the distance shriveled in stark contrast to that I was willing to travel. Having already gotten her phone number from her website, I dialed from home with uncertain fingers as a surge of nervous anticipation flooded me. After three rings, a soft hello. “Um, hi ... is this Candice?” The question was uttered in a weak tremulous voice which I quickly noticed, hated myself for, and resolved. “Yeah,” an artificial giggle, “this is Candy,” she corrected me. A moment passed as I tried to think of a roundabout way to state my intentions. I needed to ask her in a way which would suggest what was sought but also be vague enough for me to be able to pass it off as something else should I have been talking to the wrong person. “So I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight.” Pleased with my contrivance, a smirk began to creep up my face, until she responded with an even vaguer question. “Do you think I’m going to do anything?” This got me nowhere. She could either be offend49

The Metric Issue 08 - Literary Magazine