A woman whispers, “Can I lick the kiwi off your breast?”
Sarah-Elizabeth, a young model, nods enthusiastically and sighs in pleasure as her dinner guest mouths the green fruit and coats the side of her nipple with mint sauce.
A woman whispers, “Can I lick the kiwi off your breast?”
Sarah-Elizabeth, a young model, nods enthusiastically and sighs in pleasure as her dinner guest mouths the green fruit and coats the side of her nipple with mint sauce.
As I stepped into a Bushwick martial arts studio and walked down a tunnel laden with flowers made from egg cartons, I was approached by a stranger and asked, “How would you like to be greeted?”
I was confused. One of the evening’s performers pointed to sheets of paper taped to the tunnel’s wall, where beneath drawings for each of the five senses there were a few options: secret song, gentle breath on the back of your neck, incense.