Some people have a primal urge to hug. Side, front, back, skin to skin, hot and sweaty, heavy breathing hugs. My primal urge is to flee when I see a hug coming.
The only ones I will hug are supermodels. Ever since my collections of stories were published, supermodels have been pursuing me. If one recognizes me in public, she squeals and rushes toward me. They can't move fast in those heels, but I'm patient.
When you hug a supermodel be gentle or they will snap right in your arms. They smell of avocado, which they use on their skin. Sometimes they will fondle my buttocks. If you could write like me I'm sure these ladies would seek you out, but you can't, so forget it.
Some reach down and rub the top of my head, which I barely tolerate.
Some speak only Russian, which makes me wonder how they can read my books.
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