Good Girl
“I’m a dirty little slut.” Her voice is tremulous, fragile, a tiny bird.
She stands between two well-dressed men. One is her husband, moist breath at her ear as his fingers pinch one of her nipples through her evening dress. He whispers, “Are you a slut?” She nods nervously. “A dirty little slut?” She swallows, nods. “Say it.” “I’m a dirty little slut.” Her voice is tremulous, fragile, a tiny bird. “Louder.” His voice insistent. “I’m a dirty little slut.” A new power informs her voice, as it b...