If You Believe

Goddamn, sometimes it hurt to be free.

And no one drank just one shot of tequila.

She was touching his body with her tongue, and he felt it there, but somehow what she was doing went deeper. As if that gentle, moist tongue of hers were flicking his heart as well.

One of the drawbacks of sleeping with whores, he thought lazily. You got what you paid for, and not a goddamn thing more.

She was so unlike the other women he'd slept with. Course, they were whores, mostly...

For the first time in his life, he was going to be a goddamn hero.

He liked whores. He always had.

Holy shit, she was serious.

He's made a mistake in coming here tonight. He'd wanted to see a room filled with ruffly knickknacks and lacy gewgaws. A room like any other, to indicate that she was a woman like any other.

Never has the chasm between progress and poverty been so hauntingly large in this country as it is today. We are in the clutches of an economic depression so carnivorous and insatiable, it's eating the very fabric of our lives. We are sacrificing our children to it, our future. And no one, it seems, is listening.