Forbidden
Secret affairs, taboo desires, the thrill of the forbidden
36 stories
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The Grey Seamless
I spent three hours trying to treat you like a layout, a series of shadows and highlights to be managed, but you kept breaking the frame.
"I've Been Watching You Since the Anchor Dropped"
Your neck is the color of bleached bone under the deck lights, and I can see the pulse there, erratic as a dying bird.
"If the Flour Touches Your Skin, We Are Both Ruined"
His thumb was heavy, tracing the line of my jaw with the same brutal precision he used to score a loaf of sourdough.
"It's Probably a Breach of Contract"
The condensation on her glass is the only thing wetter than the silk shift she wore specifically to ruin my concentration.
—and it wasn’t even the good tequila
His hand was doing things to my composure that a three-year non-compete clause could never justify, especially with his wife ten feet away.
The Massage Suite
I told myself I was assessing the range of motion in your glenohumeral joint, but I was actually memorizing the heat of your skin.
I Should Have Ignored Her First Message
The silk of her dress was thinner than I expected, barely a barrier between my calloused palm and the heat of her hip.
Rotten Splendor
Her skin tasted like the salt-air of the Gulf and the expensive, cloying sugar of a violet-scented macaron.
I Probably Should Have Just Stayed in Savasana
I can feel the phantom weight of your hand on my hip while I’m standing at the podium, a ghost-press that ruins my posture.
Why Are You Looking at the Exit?
His thumb pressed into the nerve bundle at the base of my skull, and for a second, the world went white-out.
Do You Still Taste Like the Salt in Marseille?
The yacht hummed beneath our feet like a living thing, a white fiberglass cage that felt smaller with every mile we put between us and the coast.
Stop Humming
The humidity in the Berkshires during August doesn’t just sit on you; it negotiates with your dignity until you’re both translucent.