Anonymous erotic stories about sex without names, histories, or follow-up texts. These adult women write about the strangers they chose not to know and the rules that kept it that way.
Different arcade, still an ID at the door, still not the record store. September, and my hair was already messy from the walk. I sat on a stool in the…
I was still in the arcade washroom, chambray buttoned, bun intact, hands dry on the edge of a small white sink, when he came in. The door out front had…
The shop can have me tomorrow. Tonight the arcade door checked every ID before the latch shut behind us, mine included, and I walked the dim hall in my chambray…
I had finished a tuning in a different building and left it. The ballroom was a hotel I was not working, chairs stacked, no banner, the floor scuffed from someone…
