Damn Sexy Powerbook, Part II
Assignment: kick writing ass at an old haunt, Tequila Bookworm. And it comes time to take a slash. Do I leave the gleaming supermodel on the table, trusting in my fellow human? Hell-ass no, I tuck it under my wing and bring it down with me. As I emerge, post-slash, machine pressed against my breast, I’ve creeped myself out. I feel like a pervert.