Mariposa
“He wanted to learn what level of self-control he possessed at this point in his unfolding. That was how he thought of it now; unfolding, pushing through the pupa case and spreading his wings, pumping them until they were broad and stiff, letting them set in the dry air, ready for flight.Plain to see, the first prostitute—a skinny brunette with a wide, pretty smile and haunted eyes—had been abused since childhood. Nathaniel found he could not engage the proper responses with someone who had such... a history. The hooker's counter to his lack of enthusiasm was sadly professional. She suggested an interesting catalog of circumstances and techniques, but Nathaniel had fixated on the fact that she could not—or deliberately would not—share pleasure. Working in the sex trade had made her numb. It wasn't that professionals rarely enjoyed their work. He recognized her symptoms. She had PTSD. He tipped her a thousand dollars and she left the house without a backward glance. Nathaniel would not allow himself to fly if he thought he didn't have the necessary control.MoreLess
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