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The winners have been announced! Tasting Him and Tasting Her, two anthologies edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel, have just taken the gold at the 2009 Independent Publisher of the Year Awards.

Now we can go do naked cartwheels and eat … popcorn, right?

Hip-hip to Rachel and all the authors who have stories in these great collections!


Just for fun, here’s the opening of my story, “All About the Girls,” which is included in Tasting Her:

In the winter, I sleep with boys. I love the way they look in turtleneck sweaters and jeans, their caps pulled down over their ears, the way their hair sprouts from unexpected alcoves of cheek and thigh. I love their heat, the way their bodies radiate warmth like living, breathing furnaces. In the winter, I like the way boys fill me, the hard coal of their bodies, the sweating, heavy heaters of their cocks inside me.

But in the summer, in the summer, when the sun shimmies close in the sky and the AC is kicking, then, I’m all about the girls. The sparkling toes peeking out from sandals, the bits of skin between waistband and belly, between ankle and knee, hair swept up to show off the curve of the neck, the tiny c of an earlobe. The way girls walk, like me, slick and cool even in the heat, knowing that everyone is watching the back of their calves against their skirt, the sway of their ass, that pinpoint of sweat at the bottom of their spine.

There’s one right now, sitting just in front of me at the coffee shop, pretending to read the paper. She’s had the funnies section open now for twenty minutes, but I don’t think she’s interested in what Dagwood’s got going on. Instead, she drums the side of her iced mocha with her French-tipped fingernails. She’s wearing her sunglasses, trying to hide her eyes, but I know she’s doing just what I’d be doing if I wasn’t watching her—she’s eying the girls who walk by outside the window.

Me, I’m watching her. From this angle, she’s all legs in her short blue skirt and three-inch black sandals. Outside, a blonde girl in a perfectly-cut a-line dress swings by, and this woman, she crosses and uncrosses those legs at the dimpled knees. I know she’s trying to let a little air in there, to cool that hot spot between her thighs.


Kiss kiss bang bang, s.