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My editor suggested I needed another five stories. She told me in terms and words and pages but I worked backwards and came up with the number five. I needed five more profiles. I had spent three days beginning new tales of sexual debauchery only to grow bored with them before they were done. I don’t know if it was full on writers block but I needed some new ideas. I build my characters from real people and I don’t know, I guess I had already made every woman I know a slut. I guess I need to meet more people.

I posted the ad online. My responses were funny and sad at the same time. I said simply I was doing research and was interested in talking to sexually liberated women. I wrapped it up with “Are you a slut? Tell me why.” I probably shouldn’t have used the word slut because most of the responses were guys. At least half of them sent pictures of their penis. I had at least one story idea.

I was deleting one after another when I came across it. It was promising. She caught my attention when she asked if I needed her real name. I replied that I didn’t, that I would love to hear her story. She replied within minutes. She could meet that day. We arranged to meet when she was off work. She wasn’t close but the drive wouldn’t be bad. She suggested a bar and told me she had red hair and would be wearing a leather jacket.

I spent the afternoon despising my closet for being too small, the clothes inside it for being old and boring and my belly and ass for expanding until the few cute options I actually owned no longer fit. I ended up in Jeans and a T-shirt. I wore my hair up and put on the one pair of boots I have that don’t hurt my feet. The only thing I really knew about this woman was that she would have on a leather jacket so I wore my leather jacket. I left early. I arrived early. The bar was charming in a simple pool tables large patio picnic table sort of way. I ordered a beer and waited.

She was late but not so late that I felt inconvenienced. I had finished a beer and was waiting on a second. I guess I am as predisposed as anyone to judgment and based on her emails I expected her to be younger. She was about my age. I would come to learn she was almost dead on my age, older by only 23 days. As first I would have said she was heavy, the jacket and billowing skirt gave the impression she was a bigger girl but when we sat down outside at a picnic table and she removed her coat I saw she had a nice figure. Her breasts were full but not large. She wore a crochet top with a plunging neckline. She didn’t tease with a push-up bra and cleavage like most women today, like I do, but instead wore no bra. I guess I am fixating on her breasts. I will move on by just saying they were alluring the way they casual swayed beneath the top. Her arms were fit in the sleeveless top, her shoulders seemed strong like a swimmers. I could see how men would find her attractive. I found her attractive.

She had red hair, it was longer but pulled up in back. It struck me as though it was redder than it should be. I couldn’t hold that against her, mine is blonder than it should be. I couldn’t help but assume she was crazy. Aren’t all red heads supposed to be crazy?

She didn’t smile. She ordered a much stronger beer than the lite beer I was drinking.

“Do you mind if I smoke?” She pulled a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her purse. “Of course not. You probably want to get the full picture of me for your research. Well, you can mention that I smoke. It is an indication of my addictive personality.”

I had no idea where to start. “Thank you for meeting me.”

“Honestly, I just thought your post was so off the wall I wanted to see if you were legit.” She took another long drag, she seemed to be sizing me up the same way I had been studying her. “You are older than I expected.” Another pause as she finished her cigarette and stubbed it out.” I was expecting you to be some college student working on a research paper. I planned on being judged by some twenty-two year old girl who didn’t know her cunt from a hole in the wall. Shit, did I say that? That sounded awful. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t want to interrupt but she had stopped talking and the quiet felt awkward. Hardly. No college paper here. I’m just looking for stories from sexually liberated women.”


“Yes. But ‘sluts’ in a good way.”

“Are there right ways and wrong ways to be a slut?” She looked at me with an honest curiosity. Her eyes were a dazzling shade of green. They weren’t a mixture of blue and brown or even gray, they were a deep green. I made a note ‘houseplant?’ as though I could think of something better at a later time.

“I think so. I think a woman can make mature decisions about who she wants to sleep with. I think a woman doesn’t need to be locked away as a wife and mother saving herself for one man to use for his own gratification. I think a woman should be as free as a man to identify her sexual needs and find ways to meet them. ” I really believe that. “Within reason.”

“Within reason.” She lit another avcılar escort cigarette. I would end up having one eventually. Cigarettes keep coming up as I write this. I am going to end up with a habit. “Who decides what within reason means.”

“Whatever you can get away with before your husband throws you out of the house?” Shit. Two beers.

She laughed aloud. She had a deep, honest laugh. “I had problems with staying within reason, then.”

“You’ve been married?” I asked.

“Twice. They couldn’t handle me.”

“You cheated?” I felt my line in the sand fading. I so far had avoided stories of infidelity. I guess I thought I could tell the tale of being a slut without having to go down that path. It was feeling as though that wasn’t going to happen.

“I’m a slut. Certified card carrying one. I couldn’t keep it in my pants either time. Oh well, it is what it is.”

“Certified slut?”

“Diagnosed sex addiction. I am also bi-polar, depressive, and if you believe the last one, borderline sociopathic.”

“God, sociopathic?” Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.

“Yeah. She said I didn’t ever consider how my actions would affect other people. I stopped seeing her after that. I do consider my actions. I spend long nights doing nothing but considering them. Of course, that doesn’t stop me from doing it so I guess maybe she’s right.” She looked sad. “Of course, when I just said to hell with it all, I am just going to live like I want to live, the bi-polar crap went away. So did the depression.”

“That’s good.”

“I think so. So. Let’s get to this. What do you want to know?”

What did I want to know? I guess I should have planned better. I should have had prepared questions. “You know, I really didn’t prepare for this at all.” I admitted. I looked down at my notebook as if it would help. I started boring. I found out simple boring stuff. She was 42. She had been married twice. She had no children, she liked them but found she could get her fix playing with her nieces and nephews. She was the youngest of four and said her shrinks all suggested she fucked around to get the attention she had never gotten as a child. She called bullshit. She had a good childhood and still had a positive relationship with her father.

“Is it so wrong to just like getting laid?”

“God, I hope not.”

“Are you a slut?” she asked me. I blushed for god sakes. I am just ridiculous at times.

“Yeah, I think I am.”


“Yes. Twenty years.”

“Christ, how do you slut around. You cheat?”

“I have.” I answered in almost a whisper.

“Still cheat?”

“God no.”

“How do you slut around. Women?” She was doing a much better job of interviewing me than I was doing interviewing her.

“We, um, we are in the lifestyle.”

“Swingers? Crap. You don’t look familiar.”

“You are in the lifestyle?”

“I take it you aren’t in the market for a unicorn?” She did smile now. It was a small smile and slightly flirty. We had never gone looking for a single bi-sexual female.

“No, just couples. Mostly small parties.”

“You bi?” It didn’t seem a come-on.

“No. I um. I like the guys. Maybe a little I guess.”

“So you will put on a little show for your man. Make out and suck a titty.” She seems vulgar in print but she was far more casual in person and it didn’t feel that way.


“I run into that all the time. The wife says she wants to be with a girl but really he wants to see her with a girl. So you don’t go down on women?”

“I um.. I have…” I was blushing again. She smiled at me.

“Just not your thing though… It’s okay.” I guess that was it. I wanted to say more. I wanted to explain. I guess the storyteller in my wanted to give her something entertaining and the slut in me wanted to brag. I needed to stay on topic though.

“So you are bi-sexual and play in the lifestyle. You said infidelity cost you your marriages. Have you cheated a lot?” I didn’t like my question, I felt like I was being accusatory. I wanted to take it back.

“Lets get more beers, I haven’t seen the girl.” She left the table and went to the bar. Watching her walk away I was taken both by the way her ass shifted as she walked. Beneath her skirt her hips rolled back and forth in a sashay that made me think of proper women in skirts doing what they could to be appealing beneath corsets and bustles and flowing gowns. Her hair was also much longer than I had suspected only having seen her from the front. Long deep red curls cascaded down her back. The back of her blouse plunged as deeply as the front and her pale skin was dotted with freckles. I’m not into girls. I’ve said that right.

She carried a tray like a professional server and distributed two beers and two shots of yellow liquid smoothly without any hint at effort. I suspected tequila and declined. “I’ve read magazine interviews. I am the celebrity so you have to go along with what I want. We are doing shots.” avrupa yakası escort She sat back down and I choked down the tequila trying not to throw it back up. I gulped down half my beer to keep it down.

“If this isn’t a research paper, what is it? Are you a magazine writer? ‘Sexually liberated women’ makes it sound like an article for some alt magazine.”

“No, nothing like that.” I felt the liquor. I don’t do shots. I don’t typically drink three beers. Later I would see the booze in my notes, my handwriting becoming slowly less legible. “It just for some silly stories.”

“You write dirty stories?”

“Erotica.” I corrected. It was only since I’d been working with an editor that I myself stopped considering them just ‘dirty stories.’ “It is an anthology of stories about women who are proud to be sluts.”

“And you ran out of person stories and fantasies.”

“Kinda.” I answered too easily. Fucking liquor.

“Do you want to know about my gang-bang experience?”

“Sure, I guess…” I scribbled notes as she told me the story.

“It was right after my second divorce. I don’t even think the divorce was final. I met a guy. God, some guys just suck, you know what I mean. I know I was using him. He was okay looking but wasn’t that smart. He ran a tire store for christsakes. We were out late and pretty fucked up. I don’t do drugs, not anymore, but I did then. He said he could get some coke. Have you ever done coke?”

I shook my head. I was busy listening.

“He knew a guy. We went to the guys place. I know I did a line. I might have done more. I guess I knew by the way Ray talked what was expected. I didn’t give a shit. I was sorta okay with it really. Up to that point I had only been with two guys once and it was a long time ago. I was okay with it really. You had two guys?”

“Kind of my thing.” I don’t wink but I did my raised eyebrow thing.

“So I did a line or two and I was feeling good. Like, if you have never done coke I don’t know how to explain it to you but yeah, I was down to fuck and pretty much went straight for Ray. I was on my knees in this shitty apartment and I am going to town, sucking dick like a pro and then the dealer, he is there and his pants are just gone. He had this ratty old T-shirt on and I remember thinking it was kind of gross but fuck it. I was thinking about fucking and sucking at the same time.”

“Fuck yeah.” Shit. Yeah, I said it.

“I guess I didn’t know the other guys were there. I don’t know if they came in after I had started or if they were in a back room. I was fucking scared but shit. You know what? That was the thing. That’s what got me off?”

“Being scared?”

“Yeah. I mean, I was terrified. Who were these guys? I just had no fucking idea what they were going to do to me. I had the high on, so everything was just ten times more intense. I remember… So, I remember I felt like I had to suck everyone. I felt like that was the challenge. I had to have every cock and I wanted them as deep in me as I could take them, you know what I mean?”

“Not like giving head, like being fucked.” I added. I knew.

“Fuck, that’s it exactly! Thank you. I wanted them all to fuck my mouth. It’s… I remember this one guy. He didn’t want head. He kept like, pushing me away and I wasn’t going to let him. I told him if he wanted my pussy he had to let me suck his dick. He gave in. I sucked him too.”

“While they were fucking you?” This was good.

“Not at first. I mean. I just sucked dick for a long time but then the clothes were coming off. I really had nothing to do with it. My clothes were coming of and hands were just all over me. I know they lifted me up to get my pants off. I hurt myself, or they hurt me. I had like a pulled muscle for two weeks. I ended up on that shitty soft with my legs spread and they took turns.” She paused. She took a long swallow of beer and lit a cigarette. I had been right, I took one of her smokes and lit it off hers.

“Does this sound like rape?” she asked me. I felt her tone like a cold blast of air

I thought for a moment. “Yes.” I let the feeling of what she had told me and how I had felt listening to it process. “I think you could call it rape.”

“It wasn’t though. You get that, right.”

“I think so.”

“I wanted them to hold me down. I have thought about it. I think about it too much, god, I’m such a slut. I wanted them inside of me. I wanted it rough. They held my legs up. I remember Ray, Ray was right there. Most of them, well the others, they just talked to themselves but Ray, Ray talked to me. He asked me if I liked it. He asked me if I wanted more.”

“What did you tell him?” I felt like such a greedy little pervert.

“I told him more. Wanted them to fuck me more. I told him I wanted his cock and he yanked my hair to put my mouth on his dick. He ‘fucked my mouth.’ I like how you phrased that. I guess that’s why you’re the writer. I know I was loud. Fuck, it was a crappy little apartment. I can just bağcılar escort imagine the other apartments, what they were hearing.”

“Did you come?”

“Fuck, did I come. I came like crazy. That’s right, you haven’t done coke. It was like a fucking hour long orgasm and then they just kept at it.”

“Fuck yeah. I remember them talking about it. How the cum spilled out of me. Shit. I should have told you I used condoms. Fuck though, there were no condoms I was a fucking mess. They tugged me to the floor. They bent me over. One guy. He was a fucking big guy. He just kept at it. My cheek, it hurt, pressed against the shitty carpet, my knees, they were all rug burned but that guy. That big fucking guy, he had a beard, he just never came. He had to be on something. I remember thinking, whatever these guys do, whatever they fuck me, however many of them fuck me, I didn’t care. I just didn’t want them to stop.” She paused when the server came. She ordered more beers and more shots.

I didn’t say shit. I just looked at her. I remember all I could think was ‘don’t stop.’

“Can you use this?”

“I don’t know. Yes. Yes. I want to use it.”

“Is it Erotic?”

“It will be for some. It will be gross for others. That’s how Erotica works. “

“Does it work for you?” Her voice was so quiet now.

“Yes.” I think my voice was quieter.

“Good.” She smiled. I liked her smile. I wanted her to smile more. I took my shot. It was easier to get down.

“You’re turn.”


“Your turn. Tell me, tell me the dirtiest freakiest sexiest thing you’ve ever done.”

“Like what, like the orgy.”

“No, too easy. Something darker.”

“My affair?”

“That’s dark, but only tell that one if it was kinky or something. Tell me what you don’t want to tell me.”

I thought for a bit. I guess compared to her story I was stumped for something good enough.

“I don’t need details. Down and dirty.”


“What’s pegging?” I guess it was a good one if she didn’t know the term.

“I fucked my husband with a strap on.”

“Oh… that’s good. Did he like it?”

“Um, yeah. He did. It weirded me out a little.”

“Dude, guys like the ass. They say they don’t. They think it makes them gay.”

“It wasn’t that, it was… It was the power thing. I mean, I was fucking him.”

“No shit. You got off.”

“I didn’t like, orgasm, but yeah, I got off.”

“Like when I told you my story.”

I smiled at her. “Yes. Like your story.”

“I thought so.” A chubby little girl brought more beers. We were quiet for a bit, smoking. I watched her watch a guy at the bar.

“Are you going to pick him up?”

She smiled at me. “You busted me. I thought about it.”

“Is that how it works. You just pick up guys in bars.”

“Anywhere really. Guys are easy.”

“How often?”

“Shit I don’t know. When I want. I mean, they don’t always say yes. Usually they say yes.”

“Once a week? More?”

“You are getting off again. Jealous.”

“Maybe a little.”

“Just a little?” She was so much better at the interviewing crap.

“So, I don’t like first times. Guys are slow learners. It’s always awkward, too fast or too slow. They try too hard the first time and I don’t get off.”

“True. What about swinging?”

“Oh, that’s easy to get off. We see the same couples usually but I get off on the other people getting off.” I wanted to tell her more again. It was the way she looked at me. She was just so open. She looked straight at you when you talked. I could see how guys went for her.”

“So your stories, these liberated women. Their husbands all let them do what they want?”

“Some of them.”

“Or they are swingers?”

“Yeah, lots of swingers.”

“Write what you know, right?”


She was watching the man at the bar again. I let her. I needed water.

“We could pick him up. I live really close. We could pick him up and give him the time of his life. That would be a good story. Very slutty.”

I looked at the man, he was okay I guess. I wasn’t thinking about him though and I looked back at her. “What if he’s married?”

“That’s a big thing for you, isn’t it?” she asked. She looked at me with that look again.

“I want to be sensitive to my readers.”

“He isn’t married?”

“You can tell? No ring?”

“I don’t know about the ring. Guys take off their rings, or don’t wear them at all. That doesn’t mean shit. It’s a Wednesday afternoon and he is sitting alone. Married guys drink with other people. They will be with guys from work, or a woman from work. If you see a guy at a bar getting handsy you can bet he is cheating. He’s alone and he’s not in a suit, like a businessman out of town. He’s single.”

“But it wouldn’t matter.”

“No. I’m a slut. Remember, I have a prescription for shit to take care of it and everything.”

“And you don’t mind doing that to another woman.”

She was quiet. “You won’t like my answer. I want you to like me.”

She was forward like a man. She caught me off guard. I did like her. I told her so. “I do like you.”

“But you wouldn’t like me if I fucked your husband.”

“No. Probably not.” I suspected he was kidding, at least I hoped she was kidding. Fuck, what if she wasn’t kidding. “You would fuck my husband?”

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