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I picked up my megaphone, walked down the stairs, and stood in the dusty street. The crowd was even bigger than before. “Come back tomorrow morning,...�� I yelled. The men grumbled and shuffled away. 4 And so began a tedious routine. Carlotta would hop up on the desk, her bottom covered with bandages, and I would check to make sure her clitoris was still there. It took me a week to get past her throat. The next week, for some reason, I though her right nipple was her pleasurenut. The week after. It’s been over a week since I’ve been here and I’m rampant. Absolutely outside myself. Something has occurred to me recently; I’ve noticed that when I’m with him, we fuck and we suck, but we don’t kiss. I seem to have taken great exception to this because within seconds of arriving at his place and the door bolting shut, I’ve shoved him against the wall and I’m leaning in close to his mouth. He moves his face to the side, just a little bit, almost imperceptibly, but it's more than enough to. More

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