.is-God-a-slut?!” I managed to scream the question in rapid-fire words, the only way I was going to get that thought out through the rising pleasure... “I am.” said the angelic voice of God in the passenger seat. I whipped my head around in a flail of wavy-brown hair and stared at the beautiful, blonde deity sitting next to me. “I’ve always been a slut, Rachel,” God said, her voice apologetic, and her eyes brimmed in shame, “I…I…the way you looked at me Rachel…the way you revered me, loved me. She should be the one eating the god-damned whole-grain pretzels and Girl Scout cookies. She should be home with me, in our bed, making love slowly, fucking wildly, or giggling as I play connect-the-freckles with my fingertips, lips, and tongue. She should be in my car, singing along, not entirely on-key, with some cheery tune blaring from the radio. She should be sitting sideways on one end of our couch, her long denim-clad legs extended, with her always-cold feet tucked in beneath my leg,. More

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