Black running shorts and a red tank top, she smells of hot lycra and damp cotton and sweat and this morning's shower. Pulse of electricity on the glance from under her ball cap, from behind her thick hair as she takes it off and my hands... my hands reach. I hold her by the elbows, … Continue reading Red Tank Top

The villa reminds Merry very much of that film with Binoche and the Sikh on the motorcycle. It is more than half-ruined and hidden away in the wild country north of Ravenna, a tumbledown fastness in a grove of cypress and olives among the gnarled wind-whittled sun-hammered rock. At first, they had just stopped on … Continue reading Merry and the Merman

My hands found her back, stretched out, covers thrown back from the heat. She was a long sine wave of shadow and streetlight highlights, blue through the curtains, beautiful and sleeping, making little snuffles into the pillow. Her hips rocked as i stroked the line of her - that ridgeline which spills from shoulder blade … Continue reading A Wild and Stormy Night