The city is lonely and my bedside table is in disarray. Cherry cola fizzes in a champagne flute. A ragged copy of Albert Camus’ The Fall holds a position of importance in place of a Bible. It’s bookmarked at Jean-Baptiste’s recollection of that warm autumn night by the River Seine. I like to reread that passage when I can’t sleep. Next to it, there’s a half-smoked joint in a vintage glass ashtray that I stole from an ex-l...

Life with Roxy was like a roller coaster that both thrilled and chilled. Sometimes your stomach gets queasy with the whole thing and you swear you’ll never get on again. Then before you know it, you find yourself lining up for another ride, like the adrenaline junkie you really are. The kind of relationships that make you sweat, in both good and bad ways, can become a lot like this over time. Eventually, if you’re lucky a...

I’ve always thought relationships are a lot like seasons. They have their hot spells and eventual decline of life until things freeze over completely. Part of me was expecting that, even with Roxy. It had been the blueprint for all my past affairs. But it was nearing Christmas and I was still wrapped up in that candy cunt of hers. I felt green and boyish around her, convincing myself that life without her kind of unpredic...

She was an enigma on the Pacific Coast Highway, a she-devil as I would later learn, but springtime in California evoked a lazy naiveté in me. The golden coast was full of the promise of summer love affairs and casual encounters. There are the mind-fucks too, but nobody is thinking about the pitfalls and risks while watching the swish of a short skirt over tanned thighs and the smiles that invite you down that gilded path...

She was so tight she made my loins ache. I wanted inside of her. The slutty little thing wore a shiny lick of a dress that reminded me of the black paint on my favorite ride. Now I wanted to ride her ass just like I ride my bikes, with a lot of speed. No brakes would be needed for that piece of tail; she wasn’t after safety. I could tell by the way all five-foot-nothing of her prowled the bar floor in those spiked stilett...

Pink bubblegum rolls on my tongue as I walk along the black asphalt that’s still steaming from the warm August rain. I can feel it wet along the edges of my toes as they push forward in my white stiletto sandals, the leather damp and just beginning to stretch. The moisture is everywhere and the humidity is high. It’s under my skin. The back of my neck is hot under the weight of my long blonde hair that’s quickly losing it...

“I thought we’d shake things up a little.” Megan watched her boyfriend produce the unassuming white letter-length envelope and lay it on the black laminate bar, nudging it her way. She watched his face for a telltale sign but his only response was to grin back at her and wink. “What is this?” she asked coyly, a slow smile spreading across her face. It had been five years to the date since they’d first met and while she’d...

Aidan Black stared at the online text that flashed up onto the screen. ‘I luv ur stories!’ He yawned, and took another sip of his Jack Daniels. He quickly typed a reply and then leaned back in his chair. ‘What do you like about them?’ He smiled at the long pause. All these fans are the same, he thought to himself. Innocent young girls that dream of being treated like dirty sluts and too afraid to tell their college boyfri...

Kendra Mercer untied the strings of her Missoni bikini and let them fall away from her shoulders, leaving the tiny triangles of fabric perfectly balanced on her firm, perky breasts. She let her body sink into the plush, cushioned lounge chair with an indulgent little sigh. Life was almost perfect. After several years of dating Luke Prescott, the son of one of the most important and politically influential families in New...

The parties that went on at 69 Brentwood Street were legendary. When Luke Prescott received the invitation email by Blackberry during his final year at NYU, he had high expectations. The house was a three-storey brownstone on the Upper East Side, and was being rented by three of the hottest girls in university. Kendra, Lacey and Chloe were commonly referred to around campus as ‘The Babes on Brentwood.’ He had seen them ma...

“Hi, I’m Rachel, and yeah… I guess you can call me a sex addict,” I giggled as I looked at the expectant faces surrounding me. I thought about that statement for a minute. Of course, I’d never called myself a sex addict out loud, but the idea of it sounded almost kind of sexy. Of course I knew I was supposed to be all serious standing there in the classroom at The Belleview Retreat for Sexual Health. But really, how can y...

“I’m Stacey, and I’m a sex addict.” I knew I wasn’t the only person in the room that was in denial over that statement even as it left my mouth. ‘Admit that you need help and recovery will come quicker and last longer’. I had to hold back my initial laughter as I’d read the mission statement that had been emblazoned on the front of our orientation binders at The Belleview Retreat for Sexual Health. My mind immediately sub...

“I’m Brooklyn, and… whatever… I guess I’m a sex addict.” I glared at the group of pathetic faces in the circle surrounding me. This is so fucking lame. Why did I sign up for this? It was bad enough that I’d had to endure public humiliation when the scandal broke, but being away from the city in this touchy feely rehab centre set my nerves more on edge than they did to soothe them, which I’m sure was their original intenti...

“I’m Kylie, and I’m a sex addict.” I tried not to cry. It would have made things exponentially more embarrassing than just standing in front of the room telling a group of strangers that I was basically a sexual deviant. I bit down on my lower lip instead, producing just enough sharp discomfort to keep the girly tears back. I couldn’t believe I had really committed to this. Of course, I guess one could argue that I wasn’t...

I took a long sip of my dirty martini and leaned into the bar, staring resentfully down towards the end of it. My boyfriend of three years, Ryan, was still engaged in conversation, feeding his ego with clever banter. I noticed the familiar animated expressions, grand gestures, and overly enthused laughter that captivated the small crowd of people he was talking to. I sighed heavily, and settled back onto my bar stool and...