Bellow is Katherynjane in the city, reminds me of Mimi Smartypants. Her boobs talk to her, and at least one of them is male. Not for the easily offended.
Bellow: Now That I Finished Writing About It, I Still Can't Believe It Actually Happened.
"So are you attracted to women?" he asks me.
I'm drunk and it's Halloween, otherwise I would've dodged the question. He and I had just met, afterall. That's information I usually don't flaunt. But the burlesque girl on stage was gyrating prettily. The room was dark. Her skin was pale. And my martini glass was runnething over.
..."I've been trying to hook up with a guy for a long time now. I even met one on-line and set up a meeting. But when it came time to kiss him at the end of the night, I felt all weird. I'll probably keep trying, though. I don't think I'll feel really whole until I've had sex with another man. By the way, wanna go out to dinner sometime?"
...
Call it a double standard. Tell me I'm closed-minded. Lecture me on sexuality, gray areas and the definition of "queer." But--and I'll try to use euphemisms so as to avoid disturbing any young children who may have stumbled onto this site--if you're a man who likes dick, you can't touch my boobs.
...I feel this way, in part at least, because I have already had my boobs touched by a boy who would later decide he was gay.
You should understand "later" to mean "while he was going down on me."
