by Guy Anthony DeMarco
I saw the travelling Moebius Stripper show in New York. The crowd throbbed with apprehension as the very attractive stripper appeared on the stage, clad in a clingy outfit with a big zipper down the front, continuing between her thighs all the way around up her back. She teased the audience with her undulations and mysterious ways, and then started to unzip herself while the crowd chanted and moved closer, expectant and thrilled, entranced by the zipper moving a little bit at a time, prolonging the pregnant air of sweaty anticipation. Groans and sharp inhalations punctuated the click-click of the zipper as it slowly unlocked its teeth, exposing what was sure to be a delightful vision, to be treasured with eyes closed during future lovemaking with wives and girlfriends. As the zipper passed between her thighs and over her pubic bone, she reached back with her other hand, grasping the tab and pulling slightly faster; the click-click becoming a solid drone as she accelerated while the crowd pushed further towards the stage, their collective breath held for one infinite moment. The Moebius Stripper was still clothed at the end of her unzipping, and although she was twice as tall as before, the crowd exhaled, then hooted and cheered for her curving figure and her manager's twisted mind.
Guy Anthony DeMarco resides on a ranch surrounded by zombies and cattle. His kids enjoy burning voodoo dolls, and his wife puts up with the zombies because the view is wonderful off the back porch. Guy attempts to maintain a website, but the ghosts keep messing things up for fun.