In which I, maybe?, get caught stealing an unwelcome glance.

A suspension of paeans, and a replacement of them with wisdom from others.

Sometimes, I imagine I’m invisible, silent, unnoticed. Sometimes, I’m wrong.

What shame is to me.

Cleo doing work for me.

I like to reward with punishment. And to punish with rewards.

Brooklyn stretches with me. And, she comes for me. For us.

I’m writing again!

What’s hot to me?

Cleo matches my type, almost to a t. She stands 5’1″. Her breasts, she tells me, are “28-C,” but, since that can be hard to find, she wears a 32A or B bra, most of the time. Long, lustrous, brunette…