A woman calls back you one day about a minor writing job you applied for at the local queer youth project, leaves a message on your machine that is totally unrelated to but is interpreted by you to be solely on the topic of sex.

She asks you into her office for an interview. The phrase, 'I don't want to do marketing - I want to help people!' is drifting through your mind, but the sound of her speaking to you, asking you questions says nothing about work.

"So do you have writing experience?"

"Yeah, I'm a poet and I write for a zine."

"What kind of stuff do you write?"

"Oh, a column, how-to, a lot of creative non-fiction, literary wordplay, some spoken word stuff, erotica, porn, poetry, essays. Fun stuff."

"Are you a big fan of porn?"

"Well, I do have a small collection..." where was this going?

"Have you ever done sex work?"

"Does dating men count?" makes you crack a smile even thought you're trying to play your joke straight. She glances down at you and, for a moment, a chill travels your length.

"I wasn't joking." She has the kind of voice that soothes you in ways religion never could. It hits a little deeper and makes you flush. Somehow, though, you just want to listen to her and keep her really, really happy. It's such a basic urge, it seems. Her shoulders are broad and somewhat muscular. As you see her lower her shoulder, her bicep, her forearm; you admire the snap of her wrist and the grace with which she can move close to you.

"It's not the worst way to get along - as long as you remember that if you're gonna sell your ass for a dollar, it's your fucking dollar."

-- -- --

You lay on her desk one October evening, "Baby," you say, "Why is it that people are always marketing to get other people to choose identities? Doesn't that kind of go against the whole idea of choosing one identity in the first place? That you can ponder it over long, tormented hours. So you can realize you're not always the person you think you are, or you want to be. To make your own mind so you can change your mind."

"You need a vacation, don't you, girl?"

You smile because this combination works for you, for her, for now.

To ‘attend’ school, where the kids terrorize you.
Go hang around aimlessly downtown
To attempt to seduce someone your own age