The Chip Story
I met him at a party. There he was, at the end of the buffet. A loner, the last one on the plate. He had a certain something. A sweetness, a sensuality. He was one hot cookie. I felt as if I’d always known him, always hungered for him. When he looked at me with those warm brown eyes, I melted. Before I knew it, I had my hands on him, my mouth on him — in public. After that night, we were inseparable. With him I could be myself. He didn’t seem to care what mood I was in, how I looked, even if I gained weight. Together we had the recipe for happiness. No one satisfied me like Chip.