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July 07, 1961
American
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July 07, 1961
. . . the walls of her vagina tightening around me as she laughed.
Eric Jerome Dickey
Preacher pulled her gun to her lap, the trigger aimed toward the stranger. . . . He stared at her like he was ready to dial 911, until he saw she was of European heritage, saw her clerical collar, saw the Bible on the dashboard. White, blond, and Christian. Trifecta. The man's shoulders relaxed and he smiled, waved, and kept going.
Eric Jerome Dickey
I heard you on the phone with her. I happened to be in your arms, and you happened to be inside of me, balls deep from what I remember, so I felt the difference, felt what you felt for her, heard how your voice changed when you talked to her.
Eric Jerome Dickey
A woman of European heritage sporting a preacher's collar had the opposite effect of a Muslim woman wearing a hijab. She used her privilege and the favored religion to look like a golden child.
Eric Jerome Dickey
I went to public school but kept to myself. When you live in a brothel, you don't want anyone coming to your home.
Eric Jerome Dickey
People know your tragedies and they treat you like you’re not human. Like you’re a three-headed goat. A monster from some other planet. They keep reminding you of your pain. You see how they look at me? They’re stuck on that person I used to be. They can’t see that old life as just a moment in time that I’ve moved on from. It was a horrible life.
Eric Jerome Dickey
I deserved to find pleasure that surpassed my imagination, better than any I had experienced.
Eric Jerome Dickey
Physical attraction was about aesthetics, not sexual performance, not mental stimulation. Without a mental connection, a remarkable sexual performance yielded no lifelong guarantees. It was only lust. And lust was not love.
Eric Jerome Dickey