Male-female Stories

The cognac was cheap, the hotel room cheaper, but her laugh was a salve I’d have paid my last dime to hear. It was a low, throaty sound that seemed to vibrate right through the thin wall at my back. I watched her, this vision of impossible grace folded into a rickety chair. A shaft of neon light from the boulevard below cut across her, highlighting the twin mounds of her firm breasts—an advertisement for desire. She ran a...