Origin Story

My name is Tonya Red.

I'm an independent woman who lives to travel and reap the fruits of this life, after all, it's a mystery why we're all here anyways. That said, you see I value philosophy, discovery, objectivity, and new experiences. And yes, sex. My perspectives seem to change often, shaping and reforming, hardly reverting but possibly centralizing to a commonplace.

When I got out of the army last year, I looked myself in the mirror and silently drafted my own new creed. It's my time to live my life on my proprietary accord, kinda like that Gavin DeGraw song. I'll do what I want, go where the wind inspires me to turn to.

So I travel, quite a lot. My friend Erica, around my age 29, says I should start racking up points on a credit card but I really don't give a damn about that kinda thing. Probably should though because with my nomadic lifestyle, it's hard keeping steady finances. That's why I sleep in lots of shitty motels, but you know what? I actually like it. Every capital city I go to, seems like I always meet a new guy that I take back to my little 1-star suite. There's a brief moment I love: inserting the key card to unlock the door when he's right up against me, anticipating a night of coital belligerence, but I'm the queen of the castle. When he's on top ramming me like a piston, I'm either closing my eyes or looking at the old ceiling tiles, warped from leaks and such. I'm usually pretty vocal too, like those classic goodgirl moans when I'm really into it (not the kinda girl to fake it, it's almost too much work). When our clothes are on the floor, it's like a painting of colours and layers. Most people hate the way these places smell, but by the time I've got a man in bed, all I smell is alcohol and sex.

Let me tell you a bit more about me, so you understand. My mom is Mexican and my dad is white, so you could picture how I look blended in the middle. Think Anne Hathaway stock profile, except I know how to get some sun and not that tall but make up for it with curves. Little bevel, lil tone, yea? Tbh if you saw me, I'd look about street average.

When I was young, I was bullied a lot in school cuz I was different. The girls on the cheer squad and chess club oddly enough, would make hurtful comments about how no guys wanna fuck me and I believed it. As if twirling pom-poms and sliding bishops was the pathway to desire's apex. And I really did have nightmares of being immobilized while these got plowed in the locker rooms amidst the steam and cold lighting. Ignored, outcast. But one day, that friend Erica showed me this book she found at boutique bookstore from an Austrian poet.

It was this tastefully feminist pamphlet collection of poems and prose, inspiring the reader to elicit their embedded sex appeal, unique to them. If the torah and kama sutra merged, it was that book and I was reading it. Like I harnessed the power of Margret Thatcher, drive of Tubman, and blossomed with the splendor of Monroe. The gist of it was that any woman can draw out desire, but I felt like it was talking about me. The mesh of my body was what turned men on all along, I just didn't believe it.

After this awakening, I knew I could have anyone. Erica and I took up pilates and started going for morning runs and adult swim at the pool. Yea I was at the pool so often, seemed like my swimwear never had enough time to fully dry. One time, I stayed til close, and the lifeguard hesitantly reminded me of closing. Well, I convinced him to let me stay an hour longer, though we mostly talked for the last 30 minutes. Then we fucked.

It was one of those things where it just kinda happened, and I love that. The chemistry aligned I guess, like all the proper chlorine and sodium levels in the pool water or whatever. I just lured him in, we drifted into one of the locker rooms and took a shower together. Honestly didn't care if we got caught, didn't cross my mind. Just him, me, water and tiles. This tiles I remember distinctly, smooth and cold, in contrast with the hot water while my little waterbug thrusted his cock into my deep end. Before he came, I made him lay down on the tile floor and I rode him to finish. Fuck now, worry about athlete's foot later; smart boy, my good boy. I still think about it a lot, whenever I'm in a place with tight acoustics. He came so good seeing the wet strands of my dark hair strewn around my shoulders, face, and C-cup sized breasts. I clenched tight on his dick like a floatation device taking me ashore to safety. Every time I see him at the public rec center, I think of that evening and surely he does too.

So for now, I'm off to London soon. There'll be a new queen in the city. A new Abbey whose gonna get Down'-ton(ight). You know it's true, Sherlock. Gonna be a long ride in the sky, so worth it when touch down comes. I just love it, can't wait to get my slut on.