The Mona Lisa

       As I head toward the subway station donned in my black bonnet for young courtesans, I became overwhelmed with a sexual presence so powerful it was almost like wet fearful anticipation was shot out of a bazooka straight into my urogenital diaphragm.

I approached the rotating toll entry zone when behind the glass of the Subway’s toll booth I saw what I can only describe as the most perfectly sculpted human male I had ever laid eyes upon. I could tell he was omniscient and sexually ever-present by the way he vacantly gazed toward a small television onto which he watched the show Friends; his social and sexual importance clearly setting him above the concerns of attending to reality. 

I could tell from his ape-like posture and figure that he was a wild, relentless, sexual beast. He was draped in a sensual maroon colored Government Issue Transit Commission uniform for Handsome Men. I gazed lustfully towards his chest area, revealing a nametag that read “Ted.” For the sake of sanitation it was wise to have such a short name; for if his name had any more than three letters I would have surely had an abrupt and fluidic orgasm upon reading it, making the subway entrance dangerously slippery and inconvenient.

Like the Mona Lisa, he was an object of modern art and perfection, so beautiful and timeless that he needed to be kept behind a sheet of firm transparent glass to prevent weathering and theft. Behind the glass he appeared like a diamond, lost in time now, and forever.

“I would like to purchase a monthly Metro Pass for the month of May,” I said, quivering.

In my head we were already engaged in a modest level of intercourse. My genitals were oscillating like a malfunctioning piston.

He pointed toward the debit card machine. Of course he did not speak, for if even the softest tone were to exit his mouth it would summon all the women of the world to this very location, vaginas in hand and at the ready.  I slowly slid my slender, moist debit card into the warm inviting slit of the debit machine.

“Purchase: 78.99: OK?” asked the debit machine, mockingly. I followed the proper procedure, until:

“Declined.”

My heart and soul sank into an abyss. Clearly it was a mistake. Or was it? Obviously, the debit machine wanted Ted all for itself, and it was attempting to make me appear as though a financially barren whore, in order to win his favor. I knew the day would arise when humans would rival machines for the love of Ted, but I did not realize that the day was today. I could not let Ted find out what had just taken place.

“See you later, Ted,” I said, hopefully not for the last time.