Harrison watches as the woman on the screen arches her back and plumps her behind into the air. He delights in the suppleness of her exposed breasts, of the nipples that sit taut in a whisper of cotton candy pink, of her hair: a shock of blonde cut sharply at the chin. She wears nothing more than straps that wrap around her thighs and peak at her hips. She moves like a dancer to her own music; graceful twists and lunges across her stage. Harrison leans forward in his chair as she looks back at him, the curves of her body confined to the 13” box of his computer screen, her ocean eyes wrapped in sooty eyeliner, her head cocked 30 to the right, her chin jutting forward, lips parting just slightly, as if to say to him, “Darling, I’m right here.” Maggie Mae Parx. She’s his favorite.
Published by Split Lip Magazine