Kassie sat at the bar drinking warm whiskey. Her bowels were protesting the greasy fern bar vibes. The others would arrive soon and there would be ice to pick axe, bubbles to burst and mountains to dynamite. Nothing would be solved.

Kolton showed up, sure enough, and ordered a light beer. He told Kassie she was “looking sexy.” Kassie grimaced. Kolton laughed and said, “Baby, I can see the worms squirming in your eyes.” Kassie saw her opening. She took it like a football. “Anais Nin and Henry Miller had something beyond sex. I’ve read their correspondence. Goddamn it, Kolton. I ache for that sort of thing.” “I know, baby. I read ya loud and clear. I liked those pictures you sent me last week. You were so sexy in those surgical gloves and clean white panties. Really got me going.” “Yeah. Precisely. I’m going to start charging you for the photographs and dirty text messages. My new job title is Fetish Facilitator.” “That isn’t very nice. You should facilitate my fetishes for free.” “I’m not feeling it. It was exciting at first. The boob shots. The cunt lollipop. But now. God.”

Jasmine and Elliott showed up. They smelled like piss saturated sex. They were smiling like wine cooler drunk teenagers. Jasmine ordered celery sticks with mustard. Sprite to drink. Elliott ordered turtle cheesecake. Black coffee to drink.

“I like the pictures you sent of you pissing into a bowl of cereal,” Elliott said, slapping Kolton on his back. Kolton’s face turned bright pink and he laughed. A James Taylor song was playing. Kassie puked on the bar.

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