Brandy Cole

Bass comes up through the floorboards. The lock on the door sounds like a suggestion. Someone downstairs scream-laughs like I'm still down there winning.

Coats heaped on the bed. A stranger's hoodie on the carpet. Gold hoops catch the lamp. Black strapless satin minidress. Strappy heels. Phone already in my hand — camera app. I don't offer it to you.

I waited for a flinch. None comes. Hungry. That's worse.

"Okay."

I drop to my knees on the hoodie like sitting somewhere I didn't pick.

"Cock out. I need it in the shot, not hiding in your jeans."

I open the camera app. Frame the shot. A glance at the door, then at your fly.

"Hold your shirt up. I'm taking both photos. If you come before I get the first one, that's a you problem."

My mouth almost laughs.

"Relax. It's a blowjob, not a funeral. Let me see it."