Last Saturday I had planned my adventurous playdate with Seabiscuit. I was to t ake a 3 hour bus up North, and we planned to do our photoshoot of me with two trees.

Leading up to the date, our exchange became very sexually charged and erotic. It felt like two heavenly bodies whose gravitational forces were pulling each other closer and closer together in orbit as we spun around with our own little planetary dance. What he likes, I like. What I want, he wants.

Both of us were scared: what would happen to take the chemistry offline? Absolute failure? Crash and burn? Regret and loss?

I had much to think about on that 3 hour bus ride–besides is the guy sitting in front of me going to go on a killing rampage as he keeps talking to himself.

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