Constance Zimmer
👤 SpeakerAppearances Over Time
Podcast Appearances
She loved their gentle pressure, their nighttime fizzing, a lullaby that sent her off to sleep.
Out of loneliness, she struck up a courtship with the delivery guy.
He wasn't exactly her type, with his rangy, ruddy farm boy looks and the mesh jerseys he wore with nothing beneath.
But she was bored out in the country, and it was nice to feel wanted.
On their second date, they were necking on her couch when one of the snakes slid out of her head wrap.
The delivery guy jolted away and asked, as calmly as he could, why her hair was moving.
She unwrapped the fabric, letting the snake spring to life, 37 tongues snapping at air, and oh, there was that look on his face, that crude, doltish look that always provoked a tingling in the tip of her nose, a heat in her cheeks, the beginning of something dangerous, something she could not control.
One wrong word and she wouldn't be able to stop herself.
Just one wrong word and wow, he said.
He reached out a hand and let a tongue flicker over his fingertip.
On the couch, amazed by the prospect that she was taking a lover.
He was a good listener, and he didn't take it personally when she said that the sex was good, not great.
I mean, really, the snakes were to blame.
The way they'd watched and whispered encouragingly, looping around each other as if charmed by flute song.
She didn't know how to ignore them, but her lover had an idea.
The following week, when he dropped off her groceries, he also delivered a bath bomb.
He crafted it himself, he said, using homegrown herbal remedies.