The Pick Up

i never knew her name. she was not very good at it, it seemed to me. her flirtations, too obvious. a desperation for union i could not understand. i love your eyes, she said with a come-hither smile. she leaned in close and brushed her hand against mine as though throwing a switch. yet i was drawn. by animal-emotional curiosity or by a lust to be exploited by her for her selfish pleasure i don’t know. we picked a nearby motel. i watched as she slowly undressed in the harsh light. in the dimly lit bar, i had craved seeing her body in its fullness, and now, with her delicate lines exposed in the florescent light -- it hardened me for her need. i itched to be her instrument to use without remorse as she saw fit. now, she asserted after preparation, i am ready.