Giving sex a good name since 1995
Larry was kind of a bad guy. He had gotten in some trouble with the law when he was younger. I liked him. I met him when I was eighteen at Toronto Fashion Week. He was twenty-eight. I was on the security team and Larry was too.
It’s not all that wild up here in New Hampshire. Along with our adjacent states we share some rugged territory, but in truth are mostly pretty well settled. In winter the roads get cleared to enable the skiers to get here, which they do in numbers. That said, it is entirely possible for overly venturesome hikers to get lost and into trouble, which they predictably do.
The electric chariot was prepared for immediate departure, with fresh flowers arranged in vases that were attached to its interior walls. There were two robots in the exact shape and form of stallions, efficient and self-driving. All the attendant needed to do was to tap in the coordinates of the destination and pour the champagne. The intelligent horses got pulling at a max speed of 23 miles per hour. The ride was so smooth it felt like walking on clouds, while being tickled in all the right places.
This is not a place but a person. "Just call me Chicago," he had said. "That's where I'm from." And that is what I had to make do with.
She bought barberries. She had enough saffron at home. A twenty-kilo sack of smoked rice was still untouched in the kitchen cupboard. She was going to kill the fattest chicken by the fountain, let it bleed out and skin it right there on the mustard mosaics. She was going to disintegrate the bird in four: two legs and two breasts, marinade it in her magic mix.
Lucia found a beautifully hand-written invitation in her graduate-student mailbox. She shared it with me when she returned to our tiny Binghamton, New York apartment:
You tell me to leave the door open and wait, so I do. Naked, crouched with the small of my back pressed to the wall, looking down at the hardwood floor. It is late afternoon. Gold light comes in through the windows. The weather has turned and the air drifting in gives me goosebumps, pulls my nipples up. Sometimes I love being cold.
So, you wanna do this? My phone lit up, the five words in her message giving life to every recent masturbatory fantasy of mine -- fantasies that began when I started dating Sasha six months ago.
In a climate as harsh as that of Montana and Wyoming it’s tough to maintain paved highways to every community. That said, the dirt roads that link so many of our settlements run through some beautiful terrain. I mention this only because with no time constraints I was on my way to Laramie from Lakewood and decided on a scenic route.
The silk hosiery, garter belt, corset, lace chemise, the dress, and the shoes had been set out for her by one of the girls. It was still sweltering at dusk. Madame Myrtle could tell it was going to be a long night, a rough night. If the wind would just blow and cool things off a bit; bring a little relief to this humidity. A young girl stood in the corner of the room with a palm fan making the only breeze that Myrtle was going to feel tonight. The girl had come for work. She could be no more than 14, so Myrtle put her to work as a fan. Soon enough the other girls would have her working the men, seduced with rouge, Ostrich feathers, silks, and furs.