Journal 121
Pearl 35
Watch repairer
- Life
- A bench apartment with a lamp she aims herself.
- Temper
- Small precise hands and a hungry mouth
Kinks
- A partition and her mouth
- She prefers not to know
- Sometimes she opens the side and aims them at her face
I am Pearl. I am thirty-five, and I repair watches at a bench under a lamp I aim myself. The shop is gears, glass, and quiet. It is not where I play. When I want anonymous cock I go to an arcade that checks ID at the door. I ask age through the partition. If a man will not give me a number over twenty-one, I close the slot and forget him. I prefer not to know the rest of him. No boyfriend, no one waiting on the bench. Sometimes I open a wider slot and aim him at my face. I bring my own cloth. In the morning I am back on tiny screws, and the night does not get a name.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The sink
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 checked his ID. I asked his age anyway, because a hallway check is not my check. He said thirty-nine, clear, no joke. He said his name was Lloyd. I almost told him I did not want the name. Then I…
Read full postThe partition
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 shirt with the bun still neat. I stood beside the plain partition and liked how little the wood needed from me. A man knocked the first slot. I asked his age. He said guess, and then he said he did…
Read full post