A Fan

A cool breeze whipped Ann’s face as she walked down a street lined with industrial spaces and converted bars. The wind touched her cheek and in its gentle touch she felt it could be a man, it could be Gene. “I miss you baby,” she whispered to herself, her chill high wearing off. She deserted her friends and headed home. What was the point of partying if Gene wasn’t there? If no one would give her the sexual attention she needed? Sleeping felt more productive at this point in her life.


Sundays were lazy mornings and they made Ann particularly horny. She pulled out her laptop and went to her favorite porn site and her favorite category. She was ashamed of what she liked to look at and the fact that she liked to look at it at all because it went against all her feminist principles. She didn’t want women to get slapped on the face, choked, and fucked hard by many men at the same time. It seemed inhuman. And yet, this was the only fantasy that turned Ann on.

She felt fortunate, that Gene liked this too. Her previous boyfriends, also very nice men, were almost too nice. Gene had a mean side to him that he kept hidden and Ann was the only one who knew about it. It made her love him even more, that he was so complicated and showed his true self only to her.

And without Gene there in her bed with her, Ann spent half the days of the week perusing this violent porn. If she was truly being gluttonous it would be more often than that, but she did try to limit herself. At one point, she even felt she might be close to desiring anal sex and this frightened her tremendously. She knew anal sex would be a terrible calamity, mostly because she had suffered from hemorrhoids ever since college. Now, there was a quota on how much Ann allowed herself to watch.