I knew I needed to go out for some fresh air. My legs were jangly; my heart raced. I knew this feeling—my body was on the hunt. I dug through my suitcase looking for my strap-on. I threw clothes all over the room in my frantic search. At the same second that I held the stiff black penis victoriously in the air, Sayan opened the door. Sayan emitted a series of clicks and finally muttered, “Oh, Lord.” Then to me, “Sorry.” She closed the door quietly. I shrugged and stripped as I dashed for the bathroom. In the shower, I shaved my scalp and scrubbed my skin, getting more and more pumped. I was too restless to let even my fear of the swamps slow me down tonight. When I finally emerged from the bedroom, I was ready to conquer. I had shopped at an extravagant men’s boutique earlier and had acquired a new style. My previous style had been conservative and mainstream. Abercrombie, Ralph Lauren, the occasional FUBU. But a store down by the river and run by Latinas caught my eye this afternoon.
