Book 2 by Rupert Jetson | Flickr
Tamara bustles into my study with some shopping. She is cheerful because she does not think as deeply as me. She twitches her nose at the cigarette smoke - another bad habit, like my womanizing. She calls me ‘Professor’ and flutters around the room, tidying my books for me. The subtext here is that we totally banged but I was too sad and wise to sustain it.
She is my daughter’s age. My Daughter Doesn’t Speak To Me™.
Tamara’s blouse lifts above her waist as she dusts and gives me an erection which is Darkly Comic. I think about her body for a paragraph. She is nice and idolizes me for reasons which are surely obvious to the reader.
by RAYFOX EAST
My Yellow Cup with the Tiger On
Scott McClelland / Bartleby Snopes
Lawn Boy / wplynn / Flickr
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