Here’s how it goes. I go over to his around eleven. He smiles seductively when he opens the door. I look cute, of course, but it’s an effortless cute, because ‘when you try hard, that’s when you die hard.’ Kanye West, Graduation, 2007. And no sooner than I’ve stepped off his stoop and into his studio loft, his heavy hands are all over me. And I crumble and all the complications of my week cede. His warm tongue consoles me for a while, and then we switch places. When we finally start to have sex—after he begs for me, selfishly, several times—he is quiet, gentle, agreeable, and most importantly, patient. Because an asshole does NOT work like a pussy. It needs to be coaxed. His patience is a persona, however, and he gradually gains strength, fucking me with a powerful determination. Suddenly he’s capable of maintaining eye contact for the first time since I’ve shown up. Our eyes are different though. His are hollow and carnivorous, shaped like snakelike slits. Mine are eager and open…beaming with benevolence. This is refreshing because usually I want to scream at these losers I let fuck me, “Why won’t you look at me when you make love to me/fuck me/pretend I’m a porn/whatever the fuck it is we are doing with our bodies?” The joy is transient, as are most. He is insatiable, and my average physique is not worthy of his load till it has been bent and folded and manipulated and perfected into five or six different uncomfortable sex positions that only please him. I tell him, “This is not comfortable for me.” But missionary is too traditional. It’s overdone, really. So 1950s. Who these days wants to make sex with other persons palpable? Me but I guess I’m a minority. Hahaha. And so he wants to fuck me like a dog, and he’s pulling my hair, and forcefully arching my back, and all I can think is how beautiful I must look from back there. Back where I can’t see, but whence the camera would get the angelic angle, and show his penis plowing me as I grunt and gyrate, pretending I’m not in pain. There would be a camera there if this were a porno, like he’s wishing it were. I bend backwards to kiss him, but it doesn’t last, and I am pushed onto the bed. His hand finds its way to my neck and he uses it as if it’s a handlebar and fucks me so hard I begin to fear being internally injured… But luckily, the poppers and pot I ingested precoitally prevent that, which is good because I don’t have fucking health insurance.