Dana lifted up her skirt so that Laura could take a look at her new tattoo, then she made eye contact with me and hiked it up again so I could see her panties. ‘The fine details are gorgeous,’ Laura said. Dana, still forcing my eye, smirked and shifted in her seat. ‘It’s tight huh, and there was very little blood.’ The world felt weak, rubbery and stifling, a capriciously skinned balloon caught in an easterly wind. Dana broke her lock, remarried skirt to knee, and returned herself to Laura. ‘You know, I’m actually starting to enjoy the pain.’
Nic Addenbrooke is a freelance writer, editor, content creator, radio broadcaster, part-time poet and sometimes artist. Nic has been coming to terms with existence for years. He currently lives and works in Brisbane where he struggles to turn the cacophony of voices in his head into things of substance. It doesn’t always work but occasionally produces a nice veneer of sanity.