Young, Slender, Blond, Blue-Eyed - The Paris Review
Briefly

Just coming to the door had been a strain for him, I could see his fatigue, his shortness of breath, the dozens of tiny drops of sweat shining on his forehead.
Pretend they're not here, they're used to it, I often bring in whores, you're not the first. We'll go to my room and you ignore them.
Read at The Paris Review
[
add
]
[
|
|
]