Jason looked up as Jane sat down at his counter. “You take debit cards?” she asked as he poured her a cup of coffee. “Five dollar minimum,” he said sourly, sniffing. “Pardon me for saying so, Miss-I’m-too-cool-for-a-name, but you smell like a whorehouse.” Jane smiled good naturedly. “More like one particular whore than the whole[…]
There were a lot of great classes that came from the GRUE in DC, and as a facilitator (as usual) I was only able to dip into bits and pieces of them. Dragon-Girl’s class on humiliation play, Frozen Mersault’s extremely well-prepared class on consensual nonconsent, Murphy Blue’s homily on the Path of Rope, the whole[…]
So, a while back, I told some friends of mine “I’m a simple man of peace!” They laughed. It bothered me. More than it probably should have, and so I tried it out on other people. Exactly one person – my oldest friend, in fact – didn’t snicker, laugh, chortle, or guffaw when I said[…]