Fallout (Crank 3)

up and down superheated skin.

The sharp tang of Kyle’s desire

rises into the chuffing wind,

and when my lips journey

his body, they come away

with a thin lick of salt. We are

moving quickly toward what

I didn’t come here for, but I am

powerless to stop him from

unzipping my jeans and peeling

them off me before sliding out of

his own. Am I ready for this after

all? The only things in the way

of “all the way” are red cotton

boxers and a pair of barely there

panties. Ninety-eight percent

of me is ready to say okay.

I close my eyes against the azure

glare. Kyle moves over me,

expertly tries to convince the last

two percent. Riffs of pleasure

trill through my veins. Excite

me. Frighten me. Delight me.

Off go the boxers. On goes

the latex. But just as he pulls

at the panties, I remember

that other girl, in that other

town, how she watched, terrified,

as the man who was supposed

to protect her chose instead