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A man on the street asked me a question, and I happened to know the answer.

Bras that are the color of skin should not exist.

I wish she’d look up.

Restraints or blindfolds? Both, obviously. But if you add earphones, now we’re talking.

I answer a couple more questions, and try not to overthink it.

Isabel says nice things about me.

I write a letter to a woman I haven’t met, and probably never will.

A woman on a train, maybe. Or in a meeting. Dressed to disappear, and failing.

Why do I lick your pussy? Let me count the ways.

A woman, described.