Fallout (Crank 3)

Their skin is unimaginably soft.

But they are not gentle. “Easy …,”

I start, but as the word leaves

my mouth, I realize I don’t want

it easy. And Kyle knows it too.

Shush, he commands. Don’t tell me

what to do. I know what you want

and I’m going to give it to you.

His words bring a rush of fear

and, worse, excitement. He lifts

my shirt up over my head, kisses

down my neck to the deep V

between my breasts. Pauses.

You are incredible. Beautiful.

I look down into his upturned

eyes, and though he doesn’t say

so, I know he wants my permission.

In answer, I unclasp my bra, offer

myself to his mouth, his tongue,

his teeth. This is already more

than I’ve given Matt, or ever will.

Superego whispers, “How far are you

willing to go?” But I don’t have to

answer that question yet. I place

my hands o

n Kyle’s cheeks, lift

his face toward mine. He pulls

away reluctantly, like an infant

intent on dinner. But he lets me

kiss him softly, cool the inferno.