Against the Gate: My First Fuck Coming Back from Bidarray
The dirt path from Bidarray wound down through the dusk, my boots crunching gravel, heart already slamming like a drum in my chest. I’d heard the song a hundred times—coming back from Bidarray, met Etchegarray, garlic soup, fucked against a gate. Never thought it’d be me. Her name was Etchegarray, real as the hills, a…