Chapter 9: Weakness
May 27, 20—
2:00 P.M.
“Let me get this straight,” Gary said, rubbing warm coconut oil together in his palms. “You want me to f**k you. Is that right?”
I noticed for the first time that none of Gary’s furniture matched in his studio apartment on Third Street. Reading chairs with padded arms looked as if they were secondhand bargains, tables were nicked, and plaster picture frames were chipped. It wasn’t a fabulous place, but it was comfortable for clients. May sunlight cast down from the heavens and filled the oversized room. Spines on books were illuminated as well as stainless steel appliances in the kitchen area. It was a tidy apartment but nothing special. I could see Gary living there alone, without pets of any kind, and being happy with his solitude.
I nodded,
