I have my head in Grizzly’s lap, sitting in the driver’s seat with his pants unzipped. His penis smells like a butter cookie. His hair, too, is long and butter colored. He is one of the greatest guys I know, only a friend. How did I end up here? He cracks his window and here’s the game: he talks to the parking lady while I shut the world out and suck. Don’t Break My Rhythm. Don’t Break My Rhythm. The violations officer has cracked fuschia lip liner, unattractive in light of the job I am currently undertaking, and her blouse gives her the ruffled look of an ostrich. “We’re sitting right here, lady!” Grizz yells, tapping the window with his finger. His hard-on gets huge after he shouts. She snarls a retort, the voice of a sex-starved woman. Ticketing people is the closest she comes to the thrill of getting a driver’s seat blowjob. I am neither an unfaithful wife nor a hooker. What am I? I feel old wondering this. I am neutral, still a woman who aims to please. Tapping into my nasty girl.
