Fiction | July 16, 2014

The sex with Rob was candlelit and amiable, but for Yvette the coupling fell flat. She did not blame Rob. He perused her body earnestly, made love to her earlobes and elbows. He was not one of those guys who rushed through the proceedings. She recalled less nuanced encounters—the maulings she’d endured in her quest to get over Dixon—and she appreciated Rob’s genuine ardor. But she could muster little of it herself and at the first opportunity drifted off to sleep.

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