At the reception the small-breasted woman named Tia whom I met at the candy dish takes me home. We’re not inside her posh apartment more than six seconds and she’s pressing against me. Each cupcake breast boasts an areola of plump marshmallow. Her impish nipples are like tiny raspberries. We kiss and her hands are at my groin. I yank open the last buttons of her blouse while she toys with the secret catch of her short, red skirt.

When she steps back, the skirt’s abrupt plummet reveals Tia’s pudgy pudenda, her decidedly erect clit. It juts from the apex of her vulva, gleaming like a piece of hard candy that’s been sucked a little and is aching to be back in someone’s mouth.

While I toy with Tia’s sex she tells me about her dream. A nun gave her a sack of poker chips, but when she set it down beside her, someone swiped it along with her wallet. She was very unhappy because now she’d have to cancel her Discover card. “I looked all over but what made it hard to look was that I also lost my glasses, but the strange thing is I don’t wear glasses. I never have. Isn’t that weird?”