It was time.
Outside on the street I jolted and cried out: she was on the ground, on all fours, licking the concrete surrounding a fire hydrant. A crowd of transvestites was watching, whistling and hooting, and someone crying, Go on, baby, more, more. Lick it. More.
My darling, I shook her shoulders. What on earth are you doing?
She retracted her tongue and tilted her face so I could see only one of her eyes. What on earth are you doing, she repeated, her body cleaving deeper into itself, her back an arch of felinity. Don’t you see, I’m not on earth anymore, she huffed. Or at least not the way I’ve been before. I’ve got a new view now. I’m touching the sub-human. And it tastes sublime.
When I grasped her feral, circumscribed hips from behind she kicked a sneakered foot deep into my groin, knocking out my air and sending me onto my shoulders. As the crowd swelled with pleasure they produced a round of applause.
From where I lay the moon was halved by shadow.
I had forgotten my camera.
