a sex thinktank
by Jean Mullen
Jenna loved her tile saw. Water dripped over the blade so delicately that she almost expected to hear wind chimes or whale songs rather than the whirr and crunch of metal digging into thick ceramic. She pushed the tile forward, torso arched back, hands placed firmly away from the blade. Soft water slid over her fingertips. She loved the feeling. She reached for the saw’s switch and examined her cut. It was perfect, straight and even. She smiled. The last piece.Continue Reading
She says: You think you’re never going to have anything, and then you have it. And then you think you’re never going to lose it and then you lose it. And life just keeps going on like that in long succession, and I just don’t know how anyone can bear it.
You look at her, and you nod. And it’s not just because you want to fuck her. It’s the luminosity coming off her words, her lips, and maybe it is because you just want to see that long stretch of skin broken only at the ankle by the black dress pooled there, but it’s more than that too.Continue Reading
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