Chapter Ten
The Laughter Outside the Ladies Room
How ripe the atmosphere in my world became when I saw it through s****l filters. Every day, the change became a little more apparent and by small degrees more acceptable. I woke feeling the hot snatch between my legs vibrating with need. My thoughts at night were infused with images of torrid s****l abuse. The fair thing might have been to embrace the experience as a welcome respite from the infertile s****l wasteland I imposed on myself. This had been my salvation, a necessity to keep me safe—ignore the need and it will go away. Any sane person wouldn’t buy that idea and neither did I. And yet, since coming to Chicago, I lived my life as if that was a fact. But oh, how the charade crumbled!
To divert from my set agenda of an asexual life
