Just as I’d accepted my violent racquetball practices as sport.Lissa joined me on the court Monday afternoon expecting to pick up where we’d left off, but I was way beyond that. She walked off the court after half an hour. I hardly noticed she was missing. I walked off the court an hour-and-a-half later, dripping sweat.“Where’d you go?” I asked.“I couldn’t stay on the court with you, Tony.”“Why?”“You’ve always been intense, whether it was racquetball or art or making love, dear. But I’ve never felt I was in danger. Now I do.”She walked away and left the club. I shoved my gear in my locker. Afraid of me? She was afraid of me? What have I become?I took off out of the club on a dead run. I ran for two hours, pushing as hard as I could along the shoreline, across the locks, uphill toward Wallingford, around Green Lake, twice, and across the Fremont Bridge toward home. The last five blocks up Queen Anne Hill left me almost dead. My heart was pounding so hard in my chest that I thought it. ‘Hmmmm’, she purred like a kitten. ‘Something smells good’, I said. ‘Me or dinner?’ ‘Whichever, they’re both good. How much time you need?’ ‘Just a few minutes.’ ‘Great. Let me get dressed.’ I was on my way to put some pants on until she alerted my attention. When I turned around she had that look in her eye and she was salivating. I already knew what I was in for. ‘You don’t have to get dressed on my account’, she said, approaching me step by step. ‘Oh no’, I said, ‘now’s not the time. We’re about to eat.’ ‘Dinner can wait. I want my dessert.’ ‘Come on I just showered.’ ‘So take another one, stud. And this time let me do the scrubbing.’ What could I say? She was hungry and I was the meat she craved, and that’s the story about her species. She grabbed the towel from my hands and tossed it aside leaving me completely nude. My prick was already swelling and getting hard and she stood there gazing into it, admiring it like a work of art. Her forked tongue wiped some of her saliva off.
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