waste of the flesh

He laid there like a sack of leather, sprawled out on a large towel in the middle of the park outside of a large government office building in the downtown core. This was where the majority of the office's business people spent their lunches. It was quite the sight, this tanned skin 40 something lying out in a tight red speedo admidst a sea of suits. It didn't irk him in the slightest. Now and then he would hear a well dressed woman blab "his skin looks like leather", but he took it as a compliment. People paid a lot of money for a good leather jacket and the tan ones were his absolute favourite. On the inside she wondered what he'd done so right in his life that he was lying there and she was standing here.



She loved her varicose veined legs. She thought it was visible evidence of the lifeblood pumping within her. Unbeknownst to her, they were full of blood clots from years of birth control pills and being on her feet. Oddly enough, she had never actually engaged in intercourse with a man. Although she dreamt of it often, she had never found a suited partner. Twelve years ago her doctor retired and she was taken on as a patient by a young, handsome, medical student. During their first appointment he had asked her if she was sexually active. In an effort to sound like a woman of many colours she had answered "yes". He prescribed a birth control pill which she took religiously. In all of twelve years she had never missed a day.