“Mmm,”
moaned the woman, her breathy voice undulating with desire. “The sheath hugs
those curves akin to how a Herve Leger bandage dress acts like bondage for the
hips—tight, barely there, while letting the cambers do all the talking. The
deep grooves between the arched lips of the almond emotional core, bursting
with base animal instincts: sex, lust, fear, elation, anger, all intricately
intertwined to make you sweat. Stiff and hard, the core connector of mind and
body embraces the fragility with which one wrong move would render it impotent
and flaccid. Straddling it from the top, two peach-sized mounds, taut and
tender hold the key to you unleashing new moves."
“Dad, what are you listening to?” Sally
asked, peering into the driver side window of her father, Morton's, car that
was parked in the driveway. Morton fumbled with the volume dial, embarrassed to
have been caught red-handed. Morton closed his window before turning off the
ignition. Shoving the door slightly ajar—Sally’s body pressed up against it
with the full weight of her twelve years—Morton had no exit route. “I’m telling
mom you’re listening to porn.”
“It’s not porn. It’s work.” Sally shook her
head. She was so embarrassed for her dad. “I swear it’s not porn!”
“I may not be a doctor like you, but I know
what I heard.” She remained unconvinced—she knew porn when she heard it. After
all, she was a child of the Internet age.
“Here.” Morton shoved the audiobook’s case
at her. “Proof it’s not porn.” Sally
fingered the case that read ‘Fifty Shades of Grey Matter.’ Sally’s mouth fell agape.
“It’s a neurology audio textbook I’m
listening to for work. Sex sells—even for medicine.”
© 2015. Naomi Elana Zener. All Rights
Reserved.
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