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bewildered.
    “Turn,” he said, and pulled himself out of her. He spun her to face him and plunged in again. She knotted her legs around his waist as he slammed her back against the window.
    He kissed face, mouth, neck, biting and licking. “Come with me!”
    Her head snapped back and boomed against the glass. “I am,” she said.
    His thrusts accelerated. They grappled fingers into each other’s hair to jerk their faces closer. His tongue raked the roof of her mouth. She bit his lip to draw blood, sucked it.
    He slammed home in her with a guttural shout and went still, every muscle in his body locked and straining. With a rising wail, she began to come around him. He slammed deep again, and held. Her climax blurred into a series of contorted spasms centered on the root of his cock. He began to empty into her.
    He slammed home a third time with such force it drove the air out of them both. With a
hisssssssss
the entire wall of safety glass shivered white and collapsed. The icefall of glass showered down. They teetered on the brink, eight stories up, braced, faces buried in each other’s necks, each clutching the other to keep from tumbling outward.
    He regained his balance as the seed ceased to pulse from his body; she settled against him, glittering shards still cascading from her hair and shoulders. He stepped back, his feet crunching in the snowdrift of glass.
    She locked her hands with his and with a laugh threw her upper body backward, out into the cold night air. Their hands were slippery with sweat; it took all his strength to hold her. Tinkling fragments of glass still fell from them.
    The woman clutching the phone stared up at them, pressed into her lover’s embrace. The birthday party had drifted away from the table, out of view. Beyond the nearest houses lay the City, house after house, tower after splendid tower, as far as the jewelled hills across the Bay and further, beyond seeing. A net of longing and fulfillment glowed and sparked across the land, meetings and passings, losses and embracings in a ceaseless dance, uncounted, passionate and careless. Unnoticed in the heavens, the company of stars drifted west, eternal, empty of all desire.

The Scarless
Marcelle Perks
    It was a big bed, something she could still appreciate. The plain white cotton sheet drained the heat from her exposed skin. The cameramen weren’t ready yet and the longer she waited, the more the indent of her body pressed into the dampness. Yet she remained motionless, frozen to the spot. They always stressed that it was important to lie absolutely stiff, to “play dead.” But they didn’t want to see her soul dancing in her eyes, unlike the banal lingerie photographers who roved unfettered by their own demands and expected her to keep pace with their every turn and nuance. In cruel heels, she pranced for hours giving the camera what it wanted. Spreading her lips. Afterward, her face itched from semi-permanent smile lines that took all-night crying to rinse out, to return to the doll-blank face that was her own. Until the next shoot. Here, at least, her facial expression was underexposed, an outline for a figure, or a blur. Only the body with its signature of overstretched skin connected to the powerful lens; the burning studio lights; the strange rubber domwear of the extras. Although afterward she might have to cancel studio work for weeks until the wounds faded, it gave her a numbing lull. Her body was there, but she was not. The rabbit grin that constantly fretted between her mouth and eyes would be pushed back, temporarily plumped.
    Soon they would start doing it. She couldn’t see or smell or touch it, but the sense of it was a tendril of shame, an idea, like a germ, she couldn’t allow to get hold of her. One of the extras was unpeeling his rubber trousers, by the sound of it, to unleash what was, undoubtedly, a large dick. Without faces or skin required for the males, they could afford to harvest the biggest dicks on the