We’d fucked like dogs in heat two days before. It had been a session in which Rock Star blew an explosive five-day load all over my chest, f...

There’s a long and twisting flight of stairs to take to Rock Star’s wing in the house where he lives. As softly as I try to tread, my rubber...

We rode into the city together, Rock Star and I. At the train station he rested his head on my shoulder, his lids heavy with sleep. On the t...

The man I see the most is the man I write about the least. Once a week, twice, sometimes three times I meet Rock Star. I know the mile-lon...

Rock Star. He’s told me that’s what they call him in his line of work. It’s what I call him in my head. He’s got the long hair of a rock s...