Friday, April 12, 2024

 

 

—I WISH I’D STAYED ASLEEP TODAY

 

 

Trafficked

 

Pose. Just pose and don’t think about the sun glare or the moon going down later or the noise down the hall that sounds like shattered crystal. Pose and pull a second button free, puff out your chest some more, inhale and hold it. Pose on.

She listens like a mantis, moving her limbs the way he tells her to, camera clicking. It’s either that or a cellar without sunshine or moonglow, nothing but critters scurrying, sometimes across her bare toes.

She is almost naked in the next session, but for the baseball jersey pulled down between her spread thighs, fists holding the cloth together.

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