It was painful and obvious. He felt weird—he was mad at Britt, but he didn't have a reason to be. He supposed he was worried about him, but that was...stupid—Britt could take care of himself.He lay on his bare mattress in the dark, ringed by dirty clothes, cigarette cellophanes, and empty beer cans. He wondered about this place he was in, the Opera House. Maybe he was lying where the auditorium had been. He imagined a woman on stage, her voice rising to the rafters and filling the space with. After some time, our conversation got sexually charged. We just couldn't resist each other. The sexual chemistry was there and we both knew it. She told me that she loved how naughy and kinky I was. That she never had a man be so attentive and passionate toward her most intimate spots. I told her that it was a pleasure and that it has always been one of my dirtiest fantasies. I let her do her thing, and had a couple of drinks while I watched. She would smile and bat her eyes at me from time to. More

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