Bind Stories

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I wasn't really nervous about the next class session. It wasn't that I was feeling cocky or especially sure of myself. It was more like I was sure of Emma, sure of who she was and what she was like, and I knew that it was going to happen, maybe not then, but then next session, or the session after. We'd shared too much of ourselves, an intimacy that went beyond the merely sexual, and my acceptance of her bound her to me i...

Writing fiction doesn't pay much, and you give up a lot when you try to be a writer. Money, the things other people have, even family—you can pretty much kiss all that goodbye. But there are compensations. Your life's maybe not as wide as most people's, but it's deeper, and sometimes it's more interesting. You're always trying to explain and describe things to yourself, and so you see things other people miss and feel thi...

It isn’t silk binding your wrists It’s opportunity It isn’t leather around your ankles It’s a welcoming It isn’t a metal bar parting your knees It’s encouragement It isn’t linen arching your back It’s authentication It isn’t cotton pervading your mouth It’s silence It isn’t just suppression It’s cotton saturating your impertinence It isn’t just endorsement It’s linen hollowing your spine It isn’t just reinforcement It’s a...