Big Swiss

by Jen Beagin

It was a voice you could snag your sweater on, or perhaps chip one of your teeth, but it was also sweet enough to suck on, to sleep with in your mouth.

The bees were still bearding the hive, and she couldn’t help but imagine the beard transferring itself onto his face and neck. Why? Because she was a ridiculous person with too much time on her hands, and morally bankrupt.

“You must get this a lot,” Greta finally said, “but would you mind taking a quick look at this thing on my labia?” First thought, worst thought, maybe keep your fucking mouth shut?

It astounded her how satisfying this felt, how natural and innate. No wonder lesbians seemed so smug.