One Safe Place by Alvin L. A. Horn

act like associates. Many will assume he was my lover on the taxpayers’ dime in furnished offices and hotels abroad. Well, he was my lover, and we did do the do. But, I’m here in his place now, after both of us have left high-profile positions.
    I often have to initiate conversations with Psalms, and it is one of the few things I don’t care for. But, as long as I’m close to him, I’m happy. “Psalms, you look good down on the beach working out. Are you sore? How about we take a shower, and I’ll rub you down?”
    He is leaning over into my breathing space. His lips brush against my cheek. His deep timbre hums in my ear like a hummingbird removing nectar. “I thought you were coming to town next weekend.” Before I can respond, he kisses my thick upper lip, and then slips his tongue across my teeth as he removes my empty glass from my hands. It could be the vodka or maybe his kiss, but I’m feeling a bit woozy.
    I bite his tongue and hold it for a count, but not hard enough that he can’t pull it back. “I was,” I say. He slides his tongue in deep and I bite lightly again. I used to have a rather large gap until I was a teenager. I showed him pictures of me from back then, and ever since Psalms has had a fetish about what used to my gap. Every once in a while, he calls me Gabby if he wants to hush me up because I’m running off at the mouth over an intense subject.
    Sometimes he calls me Butterfly, when I make him cum so hard, and he’s about to drift off to sleep tucked against my skin. My middle name is Papillon: French for butterfly. His tongue plays nasty in my mouth like when he’s going down on me, and it sends showers to my pussy. Then he comes back, licks my lips all aroundand I hold still for him to do that. It almost has the same effect on me when he licks on my plump pussy lips. Psalms tells me I’m a hot butterfly.
    The media glorifies and ridicules the thickness and visual of my lips. Tabloids have mocked me as being Meagan Good’s real mother. We do share the same lip contour and likewise visual lip size, and a slight resemblance facially. The big difference is, she might be a size four and I’m a size—well, it’s in the teens and varies from end to end, depending on my stress level. I’m in the tabloids all the time and my build is parodied on late-night TV. I’m built with curves, lots of breast, and a full, well-rounded ass. A few heads of state were careless, and cameras have caught them gawking. I’ve been glorified for my breasts and ass in a rap song.
    One song remarked:
    â€œHer hair is fly girl whip appeal
    Her rump is running humpty-dumpty wild and wide
    Her breasts could feed the poor
    If only her conservative mind was fine like her Hollywood face
    The girl looks like a freak
    But that can’t be when she talks like she better than you and me.”
    All I can do is laugh, because little do they know about the real me. I am open-minded. Psalms and I do things others have to go watch pornos to get a clue. Psalms pulls back his tongue, and I act as if I’m going to bite his tongue if he tries to insert again…knowing I won’t. I’ll just melt as I always do.
    â€œPsalms, I hope it’s all right that I’m here. Henry Kissinger had to cancel a dinner lecture at East Seattle City University. The chancellor thought a former Secretary of State would fill the bill. So, I’m here for four days, if that’s okay with you. I canceled my own classes.”
    â€œGabrielle, you know you don’t have to ask, even though youweren’t asking. It must be nice to cancel your classes whenever you want to. All that money they charge those kids to get into UC Berkeley and you, Professor Brandywine, pull a disappearing act, like ‘Oh well.’ ”
    â€œI have a suite at the Westin if you want to stay there instead.”
    â€œGabrielle, I spotted your security