The New Yorker · 7 Nov 2026
Good Enough for a Tuesday Night
He had a chiselled body because he was a serious rock climber. His penis was nothing special, his thin lips were not ideal for cunnilingus, but his torso was sculpted like a Polykleitos. I wanted to laugh every time I saw him without his shirt on. He could grab any pole out in the world and make himself perpendicular. We had sex, and then, at 1 A.M., I went back to the furnished corporate apartment that the show had rented for me in Chelsea.
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