It must be my imagination. Or is it a curse. There is a man who keeps following me. In the day. It's like he had seen me for the first time. At night. He is a hungry animal. He prowls me.
I cannot cast him aside. I walk to work in the morning. He sees the skin behind my knees. He walks with me. There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me. I get on the train and leave him. His eyes on my legs.
I sit at the desk. He stands behind me. He sees the skin on my thighs. He breathes heavy. There is a brief conversation. He wants to know me....
He lifted the dress from the drawer. It was a long black polyester garment decorated with laser cut-outs across the shoulders and all around the skirt. The skirt lining glistened underneath and drew out the curly patterns of the matted cut-out fabric.
Lyla looked on as her father pressed the dress to his body, smoothing the soft fabric with the palm of his right hand. It gathered at the waist and reached to his knees. It felt nice. He laid the dress on the chair behind him. He stood silently, naked, gazing at the dress and then at the bra that lay in the drawer.
He thought that he would do her a favour. The delicacy of the night. Her hairless pudding gaped. Confectionery of the gods. His mouth spread the entree. She did not like that at all. His hands seized her buttocks. To steady the target.
The great articulator. The agile serpent wagged. Between the crust and the icing. Her brown sugar melted. Saccharifying his tongue. She did not like that at all. Thus fudged another rapture. To end this circus act.
Finished his mouth was glazed. He looked pleased but incomplete. She thought to return the...
There is simply no delectation greater. For your consideration. The swither and perspiration of a gratified man, sr. Your servant, jr. Without the profit of a cut-rate whore. A stripling for your coitus emeritus. I am your servant, your consideration, flat-rate. Today only.
For tomorrow I may be as the Summer. In heat, prickly, high. Thereafter, I would be as the Fall. Spent over that famished broad. Subsequently, I rather not say. For today, I am your fauna, only. Today and not thereafter. Colonise me once.
They sat on the grass. Young Li and Madam Chu. He will read her his poetry. She will talk to him about it. He'd written it in a small notebook. Bound with linen. With ties that fell around his wrist. Pale skin.
His fingers flipped the pages. The last poem. He wrote it last night. While anxious of this meeting. Madam Chu, his mentor. He always wore good shirt and trousers. He smelled pleasantly of cream and soap. She nodded and he started.
It was a poem about a journey. From Taipei to Taichung. Young Li waved his hands. There were mountains and...