save for her fuzzy
blue bathrobe,
rainbow ribbon thong,
and the highest heels
she could find.

The robe slips off
her shoulders as she talks
into the phone.

She sits on the bathroom
sink, back against the mirror.
The phone is pinned between
her shoulder and ear.
She begs, and then agrees with his
assessment of '50s pin-up model'.

The robe is on the tile floor.
Both her hands are tugging on
what he calls her 'tits'.

Her back is to the door now
as she does a split over the

Her voice grows louder,
she wants this.
She wants him.

'Would you pose for me?'

She fumbles with the cell phone
She stretches and flexes,
looking for the angle that
will make him miss her most.

Just as she hits send,
he says suuuck,
drawing out his words,
like she would draw out his

She falls back on the sink,
one high heeled shoe on the wall,
the other leg bent at the knee.

Rainbow thong's
long been shoved aside,
her eyes are closed and
she imagines her hands are his.

Then he whispers
the two words she loves to hear.

Her throat convulses,
wishing she was really
swallowing every last drop.

She reties her robe,
he puts his pants back on.

They joke and flirt,
discuss school and magic cards.

Then he asks about the boys
in her life. Her diatribe is
short. She says he was better.

He laughs,
calls the other guy a dick.
They flirt some more.

Then he says a name.
Her name.
His Almost-Girlfriend's name.

Her body won't
stop shaking,
her stomach clenches
and her voice goes
thick then thins into
a high pitched quaver,

'Tell me about her.'

And he does.

She's happy,
really. He's happy
and that's what matters.

She nods her head
and asks more questions.

He changes the topic back to them,
saying he trusts with his life.

They say goodbye.
She says goodnight.
He ends the call,
she whispers
'I still love you'
into her awkward silence.