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The woman entered Starbucks and saw the girl working at the counter. She approached her and said, “I want to take you home with me, undress you, and make love to you slowly. The best scenario would be that I introduce you to sex with another woman by giving you the best orgasm you’ve ever had; that’s what I’m hoping for.”

The girl responded, “I have a term paper on postmodern feminism due tomorrow. If I don’t finish it my life will be ruined forever. Will you help me with it if I let you do that?”

“Of course, not a problem. I’m Camille Paglia,” the woman said.

“Oh, that’s great, perfect. Well then it works out for both of us.” They smiled, content.

The man nearby approached them and said, “Excuse me, would you mind if I joined you and filmed the whole thing? Keep in mind, I’d probably show it to my friends.” He gazed at them unaffectedly.

Camille answered casually, “Sure, no problem.” The girl gave him a friendly, relaxed glance and nodded her head.

“That’s great,” said the man as he poured his sugar. “I’ve been waiting for the opportunity to film two women having sex, without paying for it, in a spontaneous fashion like this, for my whole life. I was in such despair that the situation would never come about, like it finally has right now, that just a few days ago I almost took my own life,” he said, chuckling. “See you tonight!” he said, and walked out the door.

“See you tonight!” Camille and the girl chimed.

Fred approached the girl at the counter, having witnessed the whole scene. He thought of a line from a Paul Bowles story: “Destiny, when one perceives it clearly from very near, has no qualities at all.” Should he join in? Or was it already a full house? He wanted very much to have sex with Camille and the girl in front of the man’s camera. He wanted that in his catalogue of experiences. His life seemed empty, all of the sudden, because that hadn’t happened to him yet. The clear quietude of potentiality lay before him like an early fall morning, or a late afternoon shit. He felt a stirring of nutty, hallucinatory lust in his groin, like the first sip of whiskey when it hits your gut.

But as he approached the counter and the smiling girl, the fear of rejection and his own muted awkwardness rose up. Instantly he felt his dick recede and shrink, and a tickling nausea in his throat, as if someone had pressed their finger sharply into his belly button. He was aware that he had to pee.

“I’d like a Grande Americano, room for milk,” he said huskily.

Date Written: December 11, 2003
Author: Phony Millions
Average Vote: 4

12/19/2003 anonymous (1):
12/19/2003 Ewan Snow (4): This is pretty excellent, though I think it starts a little slowly and I don't see the point to the Camile Paglia bit. It does capture the classic Evans sense of loss/sexual regret, and even specifically exemplifies his often used (as pointed out by Feldspar) scrotal itch (or more generally shrinking penis) motif. I'd give it five stars if the beginning were quicker...
12/19/2003 Phony Millions: Thanks Snow. Since Feldspar pointed out the scrotal itch motif I've accepted it as part of my ouevre.
12/19/2003 Mr. Pony (5): How's she going to help with the term paper if she's not Camile Paglia? Yaaaaay five stars!
12/19/2003 qualcomm: I don't understand why Fred even wants in on this orgy -- it's altogether too casual and lacking in neurotic sexual hang-ups to be horny.
12/19/2003 Benny Maniacs (5): I'm so happy someone finally told my story! I thought it would be conceited to tell it myself. B.T.W.: The film turned out great.
12/20/2003 Phony Millions: Thanks for clarifying that, Pony. Doesn't Ewan know that Camille is a postmodern feminist herself? I think she actually taught at his college. But I will not discuss Ewan's education...
12/20/2003 Jimson S. Sorghum: Well, here's the problem: Why doesn't the "young girl" immediately recognize Camille as such if she is a student of postmodern feminism. I'm not a student of postmodern feminism, and I would recognize her with my eyes closed. I very much enjoyed this, by the way, warts and all. The ending is the perfect.
12/20/2003 Phony Millions: True...You need a little supsension of disbelief for this scenario.
05/6/2004 Not Lisa (5):