Risa Horowitz


Writing

Very Short Stories

What It Is

B. finally let me come over alone, knew what I was after, suffered guilt over being uncertain about easy sex with a girl who'd give it, even though she really wanted love. I was so infatuated with him. He thought he was too hairy, I thought he was delicious. So we sat on separate couches, listened to music, drank, and talked circles around each other for five hours. He sure made me wait for it. I peed to get ready to leave, and found him sitting on his bed in the dark with his back to me, head in his hands. So dramatic. I held him from behind, said something persuasive, but waited for him to just ask me if this could be simply what it is, nothing more or less. He taught me how to climb on top. Pinned my legs under his so that I could get full contact. He knew what he was doing. He must have been the first guy I let come inside of me. I fell asleep on top of him, just like that. In the morning, after he'd crawled out from beneath me, he asked: so what now? And that's what it was.


Updated August 2022 | Acknowledgements | Copyright ©1998-2022 Risa Horowitz