Athena Shoolery

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“I’m sorry,” he says compulsively, as if he’s been holding it back for far longer than a few seconds. “From now on, we will pretend the baby was an immaculate conception, and you’ll be my sexless pal Fred, if that’s what you want.” I hear a high-pitched ringing in my ear. The sound of my libido screaming for mercy, if I’m not mistaken.
Out on a Limb
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