Working my way up Meeko’s body, I placed my lips upon her navel and sucked out the sweat that had pooled in her pierced crevice. The liquid was as salty as popcorn and reminded me of our first kiss. First or second? I can’t quite remember. I know for sure it was not long after we first met. We’d gone to watch a movie together one Saturday afternoon following a coffee. I didn’t like coffee—never had—but I drank it anyway to give her the impression I was sophisticated. It didn’t work; she saw straight through me. The movie I’d wanted to see was a horror, yet she was all for watching a comedy. In the end, we settled on some zombie flick played out for laughs. Not that it mattered. After all, our attention was drawn to other things. It had been the first opportunity I’d got to explore her body. It had been a hand on her knee to start things off with, and the longer we sat there, the more it had inched up her smooth and milky left leg until my fingers were stroking the soft fabric of her panties. When they slid inside, she had leaned over and slipped her tongue into my mouth. It was salty and brought with it a mouthful of popcorn kernels. She’d kept hold of them like a hamster, hoarding every last one even though they were inedible. Passing them back and forth from her mouth to mine, my fingers went against the grain of her freshly trimmed pubic hair. It was as soft as velvet and as sharp as glass, not to mention wet. She was always wet; always ready to shoot into bloom as if she were on the brink of becoming something more. That first kiss had lasted a good ten minutes or so. We hadn’t even noticed the end credits beginning to roll. We were far too busy getting a taste for each other, and the more my fingers searched her out, the clearer it was that Meeko was unlike any other. As she bit my tongue and clawed my face in the emptying cinema, the thought occurred that she was even stranger than I was, which was saying something.