I am walking through the streets of New York City. Spring is showering over the buildings, washing the salt of the winter from the pavement. White balls of confetti bloom on the branches of the sidewalk trees. The water is warm, heavy drops land in my eyes. I have no umbrella by choice.

Walking in long strides, my jeans are growing damp and the texture more rigid, especially at the seams of the crotch. My legs are tucked into knee-high black, rubber boots. Galoshes. (I love saying that word every time I step into the middle of a puddle, defiant as a child.)

The sky waters my skin. My long, black hair is like seaweed tangled at my neck and forehead. I move in sync with the city terrain of water, where rain bounces and spits off the swimming traffic of bright and dark gleaming umbrellas. From an eave, a stream of water pours and spreads down the sidewalk, seeking the grate at the end of the curb, falling to lower ground, underground, where the subway strikes the stream into a million shards.

I arrive at the dungeon and peel the soaked clothes off. The nakedness tingles in the warm, dry room. Fresh skin, all the pores open from drinking in the city shower.

I slide into the black latex catsuit, a skin diver's fit. Slick my hair back and (watching myself in the mirror, watching me disappear) I fit the rubber mask over my face and zip the back tight. My moist lips protrude from the opening, pushed by the tightness of the fitted mask. Fish lips smile.

I catch the view in the mirror, my sole pleasure, since my silent company is crippled of the perspective. As I climb on top, the rubber of my skin sticks and squeaks against the rubber encasement of the victim. I feel the body squirm, pressing against my straddled weight. I lock my thighs over the masked O, reach under to unzip a small opening. I see the victim inhaling deeply the musk of wet skin and crotch rubbed into latex- a toxin that sends a shiver through the body. I prod the expectant tongue with my fingernail, almost petting it to succumb. I suspend the storm of senses over the O. I inhale and sigh with deep satisfaction as I release my water and let it rain down its open throat.