“So you think you squirted? Show me,” you said. “I want to watch.”
Shivers cascaded through my body at the thought of being so vulnerable and open. It was something we’d tried together for years and I’d been a little apprehensive to tell you it had happened in the shower without you.
Awake but in stasis, I should just get up, start my day but everything feels so wrong. Blood runs fizzy in my veins and my head throbs. Why can’t I be one of the sexy insomniacs from the films, pounding the streets or hunched over a laptop writing wretched dark novels while chain smoking with gaunt cheeks and staring eyes.