Journal 148
Quilla 23
Late jazz board operator
- Life
- A one-room flat and a car that is hers alone.
- Temper
- Adult, loud, and shameless about the sentence
Kinks
- She says she wants a cock in her ass
- Her cunt lets go when she is full
- The filthy part has to be spoken
I am Quilla. I am twenty-three, an adult, and I run the board for a late jazz hour. I am not in school. I do not fuck anyone at the station, and I do not fuck while the light is on. When the show is over I want a cock in my ass and my cunt so worked up I squirt, and I want to say that out loud before a hand moves. The word is static. If I say static, it stops, cock out, no mood about it. I mop what I make. I drive my own car home. I sleep by myself, which is not a lack. It is the end of the show.
The blog
2 entries, newest first.
The closed lot
The lot behind the old market locks at midnight and the guard knows my car and does not care what adults do if the gate is the one I have a right to. I am twenty-three. Carlo is thirty-one. He is not the guard and he is not the station. We had met at a late diner and I had said, over eggs, that I wanted his cock in my…
Read full postThe sign-off
The On Air light was dead. I had signed off, racked the last record, and killed the board. I am twenty-three. I do not do this while I am working, and Wesley does not work here. He is twenty-eight. He had written me after a show, a plain filthy letter, and I had told him to come to the alley door on a night I would already be off the…
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