A man at a table in the back corner of the dark Italian restaurant raised a glass of wine towards me. "He also would like you to join him. You are bot... eating alone so maybe you have some nice company. I bring your zuppa to you there." She left without letting me answer.**Once in a while I just need to get out and do something different. This time it was to see a play on Broadway. This is quite a normal activity in New York, but I was spicing it up a bit. I wore a navy blue polo-type top, jeans. The words, the sweat, the stench. And now his moans, mixed with the words. My jacket, slipped off one shoulder so I grab it. The rustle of leather. My collar up. The sound of his hand, moving frantically. Triggers, all triggers. And as it builds, he shoots. Everything he said it’d be. More. Again and again it strikes my face. The heat, the smell, the stench. The sound, the moans and the words. Triggers, so many triggers. Euphoria. Crescendo. His phone flashes. I look but can’t focus. I pose. More

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