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Who wouldn’t want a good girl, a soft hand, a gentle
woman for a gentleman?

He said,
"It’s been fine so far but after a while I want more
than a soft style.
I want some slashes to go with those long eyelashes."
And so the bedroom became the black room
but a year later he wanted something more, something I
wasn’t quite prepared for.

He said,
"Every woman has an itch and every nice girl secretly
wants to switch.
I like how the skins look on your white hands.
I’d like you to deliver one of my demands."

He said,
"Every woman has an itch and every nice girl wants to
switch." He led me in and lit the
room with a hundred candles and said "God never gives
you more than you can handle."
I sat astride his chest, "It’s just a thrill," he said,
as he relaxed on the dark, dark bed,"it’s just breath
control."
He whispered "Hold me here" and I did and his head fell
back.
He whispered "Press harder" and I did and his eyes
rolled back. It’s just breath control.
Just breath control.
I saw him go pale.
I saw him seize up,
I felt something creep up like a taste for this.
Like a reward.
A kind of love, a kind of lustmord.
It was a minute then three then five then ten, he
wasn’t coming up again.
I held on for twelve.
I saw him seize and thrash and twist and when he was
still,
I lifted away my wrists and looked at my hands and
tried to understand.
"It’s just a thrill"
I said as he relaxed on the dark, dark bed.
I sat aside his chest, "It’s just a thrill," he said,
"just a thrill.
It’s just breath control."

When it was over, I slipped off the skins and drowned
them in the river where we used to swim and a year
later in a shop,
I was stopped by a man.

He said,
"I know you’re looking for something that’s hard to
find and I think I have what you have in mind."
And he led me to a glass case and looked deep into my
face...

"It’s just control."

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