• Venus at Midnight

    Just before midnight I found her. She’d been hanging out at the campfire earlier. She was eighteen. There were other girls, older and mostly still by the fire. The men were in their early and late twenties. A joint had been passed around. I’d gone into the woods with a bottle of beer. Walking by… Continue Reading

  • Plans

    She held up one outfit after another: too loud; too timid; and then just right, her favorite tube skirt and the black halter top with the mandarin collar—the name reminded her of geisha’s. She dressed quickly and sang along with the radio. Just minutes before the doorbell rang, she leaned, hips against the bathroom counter,… Continue Reading

  • Forgive Me

    There’s a grassy overlook I like to visit. The back is half-shaded by birch and pine. Scrubby blackberry thickets grow between outcroppings of lichen-mottled granite. The path to the overlook is a mile under hemlock, through fern-soaked soil and spindly stands of poplar. On the day I’m telling you about, I wore canvass dungarees and… Continue Reading

  • Rope

    She’s just here for three days, my mother said; but I was thirteen, on a week-end, and I’d had plans. The adults wanted a night out and my cousin and I were old enough to be alone. Her parents left, and mine, in a swirl of coats and laughter. My cousin, almost a year younger,… Continue Reading

  • Erotica’s Future

    Erotica’s Future What inspires this post are two others, one by Remittance Girl: The Flesh Web, and the third by Malin James, The Mourning Sun. Any of you reading me over the years know that I’ve questioned why I write erotica. I want my writing to matter and I’ve struggled deciding how it should matter.… Continue Reading