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beautiful than the eternal soul that the aging tissue housed, was nice. I pulled the bedspread back and she hopped on the bed. I crawled in with her and she kissed me again, kissed me and pulled me to her as she opened her legs for me.
    She whispered, “You’re bigger than I had expected.”
    She held onto my erection and moved it back and forth across her vagina as we kissed, moved it back and forth then began to work me inside. She was tight. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to hurt her good. But she hadn’t done me any wrong. She hadn’t betrayed me.
    I whispered, “Relax.”
    “My husband is bigger than you but you’re a lot bigger than my husband.”
    “Slow your breathing down.”
    “Okay.”
    “I’m not going to put it all in.”
    “I would hope not. That’s a helluva coochie stretcher you have.”
    She moaned and held onto my back, her nails raking my skin.
    I sank inside her a little more, just beyond the hat. She made a face like she was in severe pain. The same face Johnny Handsome hadmade. I paused right there. Held it right there until she nodded for me to continue. I worked her slowly, worked her until she opened up, and worked her until most of me fit inside her. I put a hand around her neck and slid all of me inside of her. Her eyes and mouth widened. I took her the same way Johnny Handsome had taken my wife. I relived that scene in my angered mind. I made her crazy. I made her scream. I called Patrice a whore. I called her a slut. I called her all the things that I’d called my wife when I had left a message on her cellular. Again her eyes opened wide, then rolled back in her head. We fornicated in the shadows of Odysseus, had sex in the breath of Prometheus, fucked in the presence of all of the mighty adulterers and sinners. I didn’t care anymore. Outrage possessed me. I moved like I was trying to force this umbrage out of my body. She looked in my eyes and I went deeper, stroked her faster and harder. My toes curled and hands became fists, one fist pulling her hair as if I wanted to yank a fistful out by the roots. Agony left me with a force, a powerful force that made me feel like liquid fire, as if I were melting into the fabric of the universe, and that overwhelming sensation stole me from this level of existence and took me close to one thousand little deaths. I couldn’t see anything. I could barely hear anything. I couldn’t move.
    Patrice wailed and cried and moaned, “That’s it that’s it come with me come with me.”
    My orgasm was fugacious, brief, but it was a juggernaut, crippling. Just like that I was weak. My head was spinning. The room was humming and it felt like the ceiling was ready to fly away. The world remained out of focus. She moved against my body, her orgasm dragging out the moment, and when she let me go I rolled away from her. She struggled to breathe for a few moments, then turned on her stomach, pulled her tangled hair away from her dank face.
    Another man’s wife smiled. She looked guilt-free. She rested her hand on my chest.
    In my mind, I heard applause.
    I turned toward her, looked at her body in the light, saw her body unclothed. Being in Hollywood made one look at things that were perfect as-is and see fault. In my mind I imagined the areas where a plastic surgeon would draw black marks showing what needed to be nipped and tucked and given a round of liposuction. Fifteen years from now, if she didn’t keep hitting the gym hard as hard as life was hitting her, if she didn’t actually walk and do squats and stay on a decent diet, all of that softness would become fat and would end up being in need of liposuction.
    If any of that narcissism and bullshit sold by commercials and magazines mattered to her.
    This was the real world. I’d been around shallow people. I’d been around people who sold the shallowness that they despised as if it were a religion. I worked where those deemed too fat were hung on a cross until Jenny Craig took them down and made