Lucrezia Magazine

"I want you inside me," Garett says.
"Yeah," Dylan breathes, smiles: "You want me to help?"
Garett is already turning around to face the back of the chair, as he likes to do.
"No," he says over his shoulder to glance at Dylan, "I'll do it myself today."
Thick locks, long enough to curl at the ends now, fall over his turned profile as he looks down. And for a moment Dylan feels like he's looking into a surreal mirror, not exact in its replication and not mimicking his own self now; but as he looks at Garett's face, half-obscured by hair, not entirely covering the flush of desire, Dylan sees himself: a glimpse of himself through Garett's eyes.

Curtis’s words of concern echoed in Penelope’s mind. He could be right, after all. A hormone imbalance sounded logical. After all, why else would she be incapable of getting wet -- let alone having an orgasm -- with Curtis, no matter how many positions, creams, gels, toys, and fantastical scenarios her boyfriend diligently employed in an increasingly desperate effort to spice up their lovemaking? They had been dating for almost eleven months, and nearly everything about their relationship was marvelous. Their friends envied the way they finished each other’s sentences with bubbling enthusiasm, the way they moved through with world with such ease and evident compatibility. They even looked right together – Curtis with his lanky dark red hair falling across his ears, and Penelope with her blonde pixie cut, flecked with gold highlights. When they kissed, their interlocking heads were like a swirl of strawberry ice cream and honey. It was a beautiful thing to see. So beautiful, in fact, that no one would have ever suspected the stale, stunted, imbalanced disaster that was Curtis and Penelope’s unfortunate sex life. Like all the men who had come before him – so to speak – Curtis could effortlessly rut himself to ecstasy between Penelope’s accommodating thighs, but she had yet to respond to his reciprocal efforts at satisfying her. After nearly a year of fruitless, lapping exploration, both Curtis and Penelope were beyond the point of frustration. There were no excuses left, no avenues to traverse. Nothing, it seemed, would get Penelope off.