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Halfway up University, in front of Walt’s Drugs, I said, “Mom, I’ve never had an orgasm with a man.” I said the “with a man” under my breath but it got us off placemats. When mother was surprised she’d get a little smile on her top lip.
By Adele LevinJune 1985Didn’t like hippie chicks anyway. Not clean. The kind he liked were always clean. Fastidiously clean. Eternally douched and perfumed, that’s the way he liked them.
By Pamela Altfeld MaloneJune 1985I’ve fallen in love with a magazine. Its name is Yellow Silk and its editor is Lily Pond. Does that sound improbable? Well, so is this unique and sassy literary journal, devoted exclusively to erotica, exuberantly different from all the other women’s and men’s magazines that sell sex.
By Sy SafranskyJune 1985A Salvation Army blanket, Texas ninety-degree road corners, the Marble Hill Dog and Cat Crematorium
By Our ReadersApril 1985Personal, political, provocative writing delivered to your doorstep every month—without a single ad.
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