Saturday, 31 December 2011


That strange taste haunted her throughout the
long school day, despite her initial
revulsion—just a hint behind the
toothpaste and breakfast, the shivery
ghost of an experience she knew had
carried her across a deep invisible
Rubicon into a strange land open to
conquest:  the land of Men, in which
bizarrely the young woman on her knees could
exercise such unexpected power.

Signal Problems at Balham

A seat was suddenly vacated on the
crowded Tube and she plopped onto it and
winced then blushed as she looked to see if
anyone had noticed, perhaps guessed how
bruised her bottom was and what
pleasure she had gained from the pain, how
open it had made her, how
totally available.

The train grunted to a halt and a bored
London-Caribbean voice crackled that there was a
signal problem at Balham and the
carriage sighed as one, except her
remembering how she had given the
green light for her bum to be
beaten black and blue and had ended up
tickled pink.

Tuesday, 27 December 2011

Inside Her

She wondered what happened to all those seeds: the
nutty tomato sucked from her teeth, the
strange polyps of peppers, all that
cucumber slough, inert and passing through wanting
not her but her soil to propagate, unlike the
purposeful spermatozoa currently
surfing her peristaltic wave into the
acidic roil of her stomach seeking
non-existent eggs and perhaps
passing other men’s seeds as they are all
swept into her dark bowels where, lo, they meet
more blind swimmers struggling
upwards against the flow and
all going “WTF?” and she
couldn’t help it but burst out laughing on the
crowded train.

Tuesday, 20 December 2011

Task 1

They’d been chatting for weeks while her
husband slept and she felt sure that
He was the one to give her the
discipline she felt she lacked at home, his
words so articulate, encouraging and
arousing that she went to bed and
woke wet, so when he spoke of
tasks he would set her she said
yes and meant it though her
heart refused to stay still.

On the bus back her thoughts were
jumbled by the stomach-twisting truth of
what she’d done, the excitement
jostling with her shame, the heat of the
club, the half-remembered language of
unspoken lust, the forgotten easiness of it all as she
held all the cards and men just wanted them
dealt, the dirty dancing, the
tug on the wrist, acquiescence, the
chill of the carpark, gravel biting knees.

She waved her children farewell as they
whooped into school, then finished her text:
“Task 1 completed, Sir” and
thumbed through the photographic proof for the
best shot of a stranger’s cock in her mouth, the
best shot of his sperm
decorating her face as she looked like a
chick demanding food, and the
December gloom looked different as she
breathed deeply and pressed “Send”.

Saturday, 10 December 2011

First Monday

The first Monday of every month, after
dropping her husband at the station, her
children at school, she went to the house where a
costume and a mask were waiting and a
camera’s naked eye to capture her having
sex with strangers whilst she
wondered whether her husband who
now never touched her
wanked over her
anonymously available image.

Friday, 9 December 2011

A Flood

He knew from her rhythm as she rode him that
any moment now her floodgates would open and his
groin would be overwhelmed by the
tsunami of her sex.