Well Hung

Cover Well Hung
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Genres: Fiction
Since we aren’t staying at this hotel, and since I need this woman like I need my next breath . . . I hunt.     With her hand in mine, I walk purposefully through the arcade, scanning, searching. Maybe there’s a bathroom nearby. Or a quiet nook. Possibly a photo booth. I’ve always thought those are underrated hidden gems perfect for a little public action. And you’d get a souvenir photo strip too.     Then I spot a black velvet curtain near the exit of the arcade that gives me an idea. You never know what lurks behind a curtain.     Possibly, enough privacy.     I lift it, and—luck be a curtain tonight—there’s some kind of storage area behind it. It’s filled with out-of-commission arcade games and pinball machines.     I let the heavy material fall behind us. “You’re not wrong,” I say, and I kiss her again. The vodka tonic is fainter now on her lips, but the aftertaste is there, reminding me that her boldness is fueled by Bacardi and Belvedere.
Well Hung
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