Written by Trinie Dalton
Please use the blue arrow to the right to read the text.
Baby Geisha, 2012
The parking-violations officer bangs on the steamed up window before slapping a ticket under our windshield wiper. 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.
(in Baby Geisha)
© 2012 Trinie Dalton; Colombus: Two Dollar Radio