jruit :: 10



A San Francisco police officer sat in the back seat of my taxicab late this afternoon as I weaved across Nob Hill towards North Beach, with him earnestly reading some atmospherics he'd written. Things like, "... as the parched pavement folded in on itself before diving into the sea ...." I never asked him to start going poetic on me and wasn't exactly sure why he was. He had everything except a mystery, or a story, so I suggested he might use the part of himself that dreams at night to assist him. Then I took him to where his people were.

Meanwhile, Mai Chan has started showing up at my garage every single day I drive, somehow relieving her husband on those days, giving us something like a rendezvous. I've explained to her that after me talking about her pussy, there'd be me touching her pussy, which is kind of intriguing, seeing how's there's almost always a crowd of cab drivers around us. You make do, and I'm using everything at my disposal to do just that, with my mind preparing me, as I stand trembling beforehand, urging myself, "Do less!"

Well, when I'd finished my cup of tea, Mai Chan and I somehow managed to lock hands as we parted a plastic bag for me to slip a banana in.

That banana's what I'll be having for breakfast in two days, when it's either Mai Chan or her husband who'll show up late in the afternoon, or early evening, who, as I said, hasn't recently been.


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