I came, and went.
          I always feel a little down afterward.
          In the restroom I was sort of embarrassed. Everywhere I looked, there I was, bare-assed. All my clones, all the parts hanging out there in front of God and everybody. Whose idea was this? I knew half a dozen other people with a crew of identical bodies, but not one of them had been invited? Did no one want a little variety? I felt guilty: did I not want a little variety? I suppose I was always already my first sexual partner, and I guess there’s probably some deep Freudian comfort in that. I nodded at myself on the way to the showers.
          Cleaned up, I went back to the main rooms. I dawdled in a corner, tried to get out of my way. Finally had a chance to really take the place in. Such tasteful lighting! Such comfortable, easy-to-clean fabrics! Some (I groped), some Bauhaus sort of design things. Someone of me has thought through all the details, and I allow myself a little surge of pride. It’s almost enough to carry me through the spectacle. All around us, we are swaying and sweating and pendulating. We are thrusting and grinding. Licking. Shuddering and grasping. I see angles of myself that no one should ever have to see. Oh, those mirrors! But it’s just us here, only us. And inside of us, even more potential for us. I should learn to relax.
          First time? comes a voice, sitting down on the couch next to me.
          No, no, I, I say. I’ve dropped by a few times.
          Don’t think I’ve seen you here before, says the other one, and I turn and look at my smile and we both just burst! out! laughing! It feels like something’s opened up in my heart. God, I crack me up.
💀