When ignorance is not exactly bliss

Fine-plucked eyebrows circumflexed above irises the smokey ochre of ancient beeswax, whose hardness matched the jargon they resembled.

‘Jason, it is considered vulgar to express a concern for the pecuniary, but since you ask, five-hundred for a blow-job, two grand for a fuck and no bareback.’

Be careful what you wish for

For a dwarf his sense of self was oversized, outrageous. As well he knew; worked hard at even. And, like a castrato I once had as lover – an outstanding Prince Orlofsky! – he was not lacking in the most important attributes. Nor did his skills present as ostentatious; there was no sense of shortcomings being compensated for.

Which, perhaps, explains why I so regretted my own failure of perfection when he took my hand and, not exactly sorrowfully, said, ‘Ah, Eve, time to say good-bye. I’ll not be seeing you again,’

My aim overcompensated; I shot him right between the eyes.