“Where’d You Go, Sexy Boxer?” – m4w
Date: 2009-11-01, 9:12AM EST
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We met on the Uptown 6. I got on at Union Square. The subway car was empty, except for the Commercial Pilot and his Sexy Flight-Attendant sleeping in the corner.
You were sitting by yourself, Sexy Boxer. The first time I saw your costume it was bagged and hanging on the wall in Ricky’s on the Upper East Side. It was a popular one—I’d seen at least six women wearing it that night: gold lamé bra top, pink satin skirt, matching robe and belt. But not the pink boots you were wearing—you definitely purchased those separately. And the black eye I thought you had drawn on yourself—that was real.
“Excuse me,” I said. “I think you lost one of your golden gloves.”
“No, I left it.” You sounded beat but ready for another bout. “Which one are you?”
“Me? I’m Laa-Laa.”
“Are you hot, Laa-Laa? That costume looks really hot.”
“Yeah, I’m sweating pretty bad,” I said. “That’s probably why I’m the only Teletubby I’ve seen all night.”
“How many Sexy Boxers have you seen?”
“Just you, champ.”
You missed your stop. We got off at mine. We passed a Doctor and his Sexy Nurse—her costume was store-bought, but his scrubs looked legit.
Back at my place you took a steak from the freezer, pressed it to your black eye, then lay on my bed.
This morning you were gone. I fried the steak you left (defrosted) on my pillow.
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