9/20/11

She’s Feline
By Andrew J. Stone


Her purrs whisk reality. She strokes my chest with clawing paws, whispering words of another dimension. A dimension not only of sight and sound, but of exotic sex. She nibbles the lobes of my left ear and sticks her wet nose inside the drum. Suddenly she slashes me stiff. I grope her lean curves and she leaves my hand with balls of hair. I shout at her. Scream for the climax. It doesn’t come. I’m alone.


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Andrew J. Stone lives and writes in Southern California with iced coffee and mint tea. His work has appeared or will appear in Phantom Kangaroo, Apocrypha and Abstractions, Disingenuous Twaddle, Dark Chaos, In Between Altered States, The Camel Saloon, Yesteryear Fiction, The Fringe, and Three Line Poetry among other places. He currently doesn't blog anywhere.