We met in June. She’d busted me ogling high heels and cleavage at an after-hours party. “Sometimes I go for the obvious types,” I said. “But then there’s this thing.” I pointed first at her, then at myself. She blushed and I knew. July blew by, all bedrooms and heat and sweat and sex. Then the late August scene: “Who’s gonna say it first?” she said, pushed up on toes, arms wrapped around my neck, hair smelling like American Spirits, “Starts with ‘I’ ends with ‘u.’” I could feel heat against my back coming from the hood of the car.


R. Neal Bonser is a writer living in Tucson, Arizona. He received his MFA in creative writing from Antioch University Los Angeles in 2008.

Photo credit: Kate Farnady

One Response to “Seasoning”

  1. Lisa McCool-Grime says:


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