Last night, the most feral creature I’ve ever met leapt across the room and knocked me to the floor. We kissed and kissed a lot, but what I remember most is the biting. Not playful biting, but hard, violent, unpredictable biting. It was like making out with a hot, vicious animal.
This morning I assessed the damage and my body is so sensitized that I can’t tell whether the biting was a bad thing or a good thing. I’m sure if I ever see her again, I’ll drop into a defensive stance while hoping, secretly, that she mauls me.