Blindfolds

She’s holding her pictures hostage, and I’m negotiating with a terrorist.

I had less than an hour. Isabel and I put it to most excellent use.

I met Lida for a drink. She wasn’t quite ready to suck my cock. But we had fun, anyway.

Isabel and I finally found our way back to each other, a hair dryer cord, a pillowcase, and a shrinking vocabulary.

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

The fantasy was me and eight or ten women. The reality was two, in black dresses, at opposite ends of a bar. My fallback position was, it turned out, pretty fucking spectacular.

I line you all up against a hotel wall and let my imagination do what it does best.

Luna is difficult, entitled, and spectacular — and on this particular evening, she was lying face-down on the bed, as instructed, her magnificent ass writhing in anticipation.

An exchange on OKCupid about dominance, submission, and feminism that I found… illuminating.

In a hotel elevator, I told Graziella I hate writing about sex — and then, of course, I went ahead and wrote about the sex.