Friday, February 6, 2009

Frat Party

I lay on a white sheet as Genevieve drew on my groin with a Sharpie.


Straight lines and hash marks and cross-hairs. Radiation targets.

Adding to the adventure, Genevieve used athletic tape to secure personal elements to one side, clearing the deck for mapping and target acquisition. The area south of my belt buckle resembled a drunk conventioneer’s necktie at closing time.

“A guy usually has to go to a fraternity initiation or a bachelor party to get this kind of treatment," I said.

Genevieve giggled, but nervously. As if she didn’t know whether she should.