Shot in the real office of the publisher behind my book Inappropriate. A supervisor and the guy who works for him.
Shot in the real office of the publisher behind my book Inappropriate. A supervisor and the guy who works for him.
Somebody's apartment in the heat. The fan on, the wallpaper peeling, nobody performing.
Made to look like a train car. Nowhere to hide, nowhere to go.
I’m greedy about two things: sex, and getting the shot right.
They’re the same hunger. The polish isn’t there to make it respectable. It’s there because it makes it hotter.






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