“Fuck,” I grumbled as laughter carried down the hill to me. Scrambling to my feet, I tucked my hard-on into my waist band and hurried up to the ho...se. Her beautiful smile and twinkling eyes erased all my anger, and I returned the smile. “So, today I need you to… darn it, where is my list…” she said. My eyes automatically checked out her whole body. Brown work boots, short light blue jean shorts, and a plain light grey hooded sweatshirt with the sleeves rolled up. Her medium length black hair. Albert couldn't help himself. "You're a what?" he asked abruptly, hoping he'd misheard her."A sex poet," Hannah repeated. "It's the big growth area in poetry. You don't write about landscapes, flowers or whatever these days. Some poets write about urban squalor and drugs and stuff. Like rappers only without the twelve inch discs. Some of us write about sex." Sex?" Albert wondered, carefully steering his jeep to avoid the carcass of a dog sprawled out across the road. "How can you find anything. More

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