Viewing the local antiquities

Gabrielle returns 
from Japan, as she tells me. She has a pale mauve hickey on the right side of her neck.

"Domo arigato," she says, and writes the letters carefully on a scrap of paper with the pen that I give her.

What was different about Japan? The bento boxes.

What did they say about you? Big breasts.

On all fours, she sucks me. I lean forward, bend down, cup her cheeks with both hands: cool, firm: slide a finger down her crack to twiddle her lips as she gobbles me. Her shoulder bones rotate under her skin as she reaches a hand up to fondle my balls, then reaches her hand round, cups my cheek, and pull me all the way into her mouth.

On top of the books piled high by the bedside, her beeper buzzes like a gigantic insect that can't achieve lift-off—

Still gobbling me, she reaches a hand over and switches it off.

I rub her back. Her lower back, where she would hurt before her cycle begins.

To begin, sitting barefoot on the side of the bed, she would shrug off her unbuttoned white shirt, unwrap her black pants in two motions, step out of them, then pivot herself on her ass and lie back on the bed, spreading her legs. I'd pause to hang her pants and her shirt on a chair, and in two ticks be on top of her.

No wasted motion. No frills.


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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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