All’s Cell That Ends Cell
Passing notes in a bar. What could go wrong?
A half block from my apartment building was a small but trendy bar that I’d occasionally visit out of boredom. I had broken up with my boyfriend six months earlier and my sex life was nonfunctional except for pleasuring myself. It was a great and frequently used move but no substitute for dick. I would sit at the bar and fantasize over some cute guy or even some average ones. I was just so horny and it was frustrating tha...