Forbidden
Secret affairs, taboo desires, the thrill of the forbidden
8 stories
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Tell Him You're Tired
I watched the way the condensation on your gin glass mirrored the fine, frantic sweat beginning to break across your collarbone.
I Never Told Him About This
The rain was doing its best to turn the Rue de Rivoli into a creek, but all I could focus on was how her silk dress clung to her hip.
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.
Low Treble
The neck of the Gibson felt like a stranger's hand, cold and unyielding, while she stood by the oak vats and watched him bleed through a ballad.
Tallow
She was the high priestess of deprivation, and I was a man who lived and died by the grace of butter and bourbon.
Why Did You Let the Door Click Shut?
The air conditioning in the gallery hummed like a low-budget horror score, a cold, mechanical buzz that did nothing to chill the sweat pooling at the base of my spine.
I Definitely Didn't Come Here for the Music
His thumb was hooked in the waistband of her trousers, pulling the fabric taut against the swell of her hip like a resistance band.
Lock the Front Door
His thumb was tracing the ridge of my hip bone like he was following a contour line on a map he'd memorized.