Twenty-four
A young man’s first time, a woman’s Christmas countdown, and the artist who makes it happen.
‘Twas the twenty-sixth of December, not this year, but last year, and Jessica was sipping another cranberry vodka. Settled into a giant, overstuffed chair that she had restored herself, she leafed through the pictures and biographies of next year’s prospective models. Sketches of faces, penises, and butts were layered around her like dirty Christmas snow. Her apprentice and assistant would return next week to address the...