 J. D. Roman's alternate personalities (of which there are many) will be published this year in Calyx journal and in the anthologies Ripe Fruit: Well-Seasoned Erotica and Shameless: An Intimate Erotica. J.D. has been a Hedgebrook resident, the Seattle Writers Association�s essay contest winner, and the Redmond Association of Spoken Word�s fiction contest winner. Read more of J. D. Roman's work in Mind Caviar fiction. E-mail J. D. Roman.
Slake For Bubba I watched her drink my beer. Parked outside, her bike pawed the ground. Her choker matched the Harley�s saddle. Wet leather and chrome studs. A monochrome T.V. weatherman flickered in and out of focus, droning on about the high-pressure region holding our city hostage. The bartender looked over. �It�ll only get hotter.� Tattooed flames flickered from beneath his shirtsleeve, licking at his damp and bulging bicep. She set the empty glass down in its perspiration pool. I signaled for another. She hooked her boot heel over the footrest. �Not another girly Hefeweizen.� I tried to pay for the fresh pint. The bartender gripped my wrist across the bar. �You�re new here.� �It�s not your money we want.� She drummed her long nails, slippery red, on the foaming glass. His calloused paw possessed me. �Bet you�ll earn a sip.� �Maybe.� She wiped my upper lip with her thumb, scratching my cheek. �You�re sweating.� Body heat trapped in animal hide mixed with desire�s loud smell. I eyed my beer. �I�m thirsty.� She grabbed my hair, pulling my face to her crotch. A denim swatch cut a musky river through her black leather chaps. Her zipper teeth grazed my lips. The jukebox throbbed. Lights flickered. A fan whirred. Footsteps sounded behind me. I waited for a taste as she drank her beer. Copyright
© 2001-2002 J. D. Roman. All rights reserved. Do not copy or post.
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