I have a capricious nature. I’m not crazy; just easily bored, I suppose. Soon as I’ve gotten into the swing of something is usually when I decide it’s about time to move on. That said, I’m in my mid-twenties and still in the final throes of my undergraduate education at the third university (of four). I got my first job around a decade ago and, by conservative estimates, have collected a paycheck from close to twenty employers by now. And that, mind you, doesn’t include any of the various sources of non taxable income I earned in that span of time.
I’m feeling that itch again. That deep kind of itch that can only be scratched by a good tentacle probing or, in my case, an 8’ polished chrome pole. It seems that even change has become routine and I’m right on schedule to start pulling out old tricks. There’s just something about cold metal between my thighs that’s so...
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