He comes in and he’s huge

* make us famous

and my body says no.  We sit on the low couch and I talk and I watch him and when I smile he smiles and when I lean in he leans in and I ask him a few lateral questions and he’s surprised, but he answers. Sometimes it’s just that the situation scares them,  and what I’m picking up on is fear. I start to feel ok. We kiss and I get naked. I don’t know how I feel about my comfort with nudity. There’s a relish in it. Sexy Maurice Sendak, though that’s a blasphemy. 

Something’s still wrong though, now he seems cat got the canary. I head to the other side of the counter and fan the money, and sure enough it’s half what I had quoted. Some utter bullshit about confusion and none of that matters, he picks it up! I want a certain amount for what’s transpired already. He refuses. He draws up. I realize that this is his script, his kink. He’s big.

I am suddenly very very angry and I feel 12 feet tall. I can feel adrenaline, it feels like sex if sex were anger. It feels really good.  I ask for my amount again. I am naked, and that feels like a tactical advantage. I am not afraid and I very much look forward to what’s coming.  He hands me the money and backs out the door. 

I try to figure out how this skews my calculations and I can’t at all. I go have dinner.