A Certain Perception

"No, not exactly," I replied.

She pouted, teasingly. Then, she lightly caressed my naked chest, tenderly raking the flesh with her elegant sculptured nails in that sensual, seductive way she did so well.

"NO? Well then, if it isn't ME, who is it? Britney? J.Lo? Christina? I can show you things those lame-assed bitches have never dreamed of."

"Um, that's kind of complicated."

"I UNDERSTAND 'complicated'. I wrote the book. Tell me more."

I explained it as tactfully as I could, terrified of revealing my sordid secret to ANYONE, let alone one I was truly, madly, deeply in love with.

"You teased me about always having wanted to be with a hooker. That's ALMOST accurate. I have always fantasized about... experiencing Sex from the other side of the gender divide. Oh, there is more to it than that; a lot more. You know me. You know the kind of girls I - WE - lust for. In my fantasies, I never envision myself as the Girl Next Door. I have always been obsessed with the kind of fantasy slut you see in "B" movies; standing on a street corner with Big Hair, too much makeup, long, glistening fingernails, killer curves sheathed in tight, revealing dresses and dangerously high stiletto heels, the works. I want to get inside that slut's head, to know her thoughts, desires, what her life is like. That dream has haunted me as long as I can remember, but I have always regarded it as exactly that; a dream that will never be realized. How would I even begin? I feel so far removed from that world. I haven't known any hookers. I had no idea where to find one until....

As the import of my words suddenly dawned on me, I rushed to put words in my mouth, hoping that, by sheer volume alone, I might accidentally hit on the right ones to cover my amazing lack of sensitivity.

"I love you, Kyra; I really, really do. YES, when we were in the chat room, when I first suspected you might be a REAL 'working girl', my imagination ran wild. I conjured up all the lurid, wanton images that have occupied my brain since...