A series of questions, each one a little more insistent than the last.

A much-hyped first date, a black polka-dot minidress, and a request made over drinks.

Véronique tells you about our first date, in her own words.

Véronique picks up where she left off — the cold air, the car, the Liberty Hotel with its green neon and painted ceiling.

Véronique was kind enough to leave out some details. I’m not that kind.

She knew the day would be long. She didn’t know much else.

Driving through the meatpacking district, I told her to cum for me. She did.

Instructions for her, while she’s at the bar.

I had a plan for the evening. It didn’t survive first contact.

Véronique has a good memory, and she’s not shy about sharing it.