A new article for queer voices about tying my friend’s corsets.
Extract below, full article here.
I have one foot braced against a table; the other keeps lurching forward on the patterned carpet. In my hands are yards and yards of black shoelace, which I’m pulling at so hard the tips of my fingers are white.
‘Tighter?’ I ask. The cinched in waist in front of me shifts experimentally with a creaking sound. ‘Tighter’ he breathlessly replies.