The Strangler Fig Pas de Deux

"“My poor body, madam, requires it: I am driven on by the flesh; and he must needs go that the devil drives.” Shakespeare, All's Well that Ends Well."

The whirring fan was a triumph of optimism over effectiveness, not a skerrick of breeze cut through the treacly mugginess shrouding my skin. That humidity, redolent of molasses, mango, and frangipani, continually asked: Always the outsider in this fugging hell...

Stone Butch

"I nibble my way to her ear and whisper, “I need this. I need you.”"

Another purple sunrise, I’ve seen too many to count. I used to think that this time of the morning held magic. The way the sun momentarily stays hidden behind the horizon, sending up her rays in a lavender ombre canopy...