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Forbidden Tides in a Shared Sea
I watch the taillights of my wife’s SUV disappear down the sandy, pine-lined lane, the sound of the engine swallowed by the crash of the Atlantic. The silence that rushes in to fill the space is p...
Avatars at the Door
The first time she typed hello, I was wine-drunk and lonely, scrolling through the avatar app that swore no real names, no locations, no way to trace skin back to street addresses. Her icon was a ...
Vines and Volumes Under Lock and Key
The door clicked shut behind the last arrival, and with it came the familiar, comfortable silence of a room settling into its purpose. Rain pattered against the bay window of my living room, a ste...
Locked in a Mystery with Her
The room smells of old paper and lemon-scented polish. It’s meant to be a detective’s office, circa 1948.
Last Dance Before the Aisle
The champagne had gone straight to my head, or maybe it was the penis-shaped balloons bobbing against the ceiling of our private booth at Vibe. Twenty of my closest friends shrieked with laughter ...
Skin Deep, Ink Deeper
The first time I saw her, I thought she’d be a man. The name on the booking confirmation was ‘Alex Reed, Hand & Machine Tattoo Studio,’ and the voice on the phone had been a low, gravelly murmur t...
When Her Gaze Became a Touch
The first time I noticed her looking, I told myself I was imagining things. It was a Tuesday, and my roommate Maya was making dinner, the scent of garlic and ginger blooming in our small apartment...
Misery's Company at the Ex's Wedding
The band’s opening chords for the first dance were a physical assault. They vibrated through the cheap white folding chair beneath me and up my spine, a jolt of pure, distilled misery.
The Submissive Teaches the Dominant
I’d always thought of myself as the one in control. In life, in work, in love.
A Lesson in Deeper Stretches
The scent of sandalwood and sweat hung heavy in the studio as I rolled up my mat, watching the other students file out. My hamstrings ached in that delicious post-practice way, but it wasn't the p...
Seven Nights on the Siberian Express
The first thing I notice about her is the sheer size of her suitcase, a monstrous, hard-shelled thing she wrestles through the narrow corridor of the carriage with a series of soft, frustrated grun...
She's hiring a surrogate to...
The late afternoon light in Olivia’s downtown loft was the kind she usually loved—long, golden, and forgiving—but today it felt like an interrogation lamp. It illuminated the single sheet of paper...
Pulse Points
The clinic smells like antiseptic and anxiety, a scent I know all too well. I’ve been sitting in this paper gown for fifteen minutes, the thin material crinkling with every nervous shift of my wei...
The Founder's Final Temptation
The glow from Maya's monitor painted her face in harsh whites and blues, the only illumination in the office besides the city lights bleeding through the floor-to-ceiling windows. She flexed her f...
The Paris Confession
The Seine carried the scent of autumn and something indefinable that Catherine had always associated with endings—wet stone, perhaps, or the particular brassy note that hung in the air when leaves ...