I met her in a bar. Tattoos from wrist to shoulder-joint; piercings in surprising places; lips the exact shade of my first period. Just my type.

I offered my place. She insisted on hers. Tiny little apartment. Spare as a monk's cell. Except the bedroom.. Whips, chains, harness and pullies. Eyehooks in the ceiling that she promised were structurally sound.
I'll make you a deal, she said. I will do anything to you. Anything. Just ask. In exchange, you have to do anything to me that I ask. Anything.
We shook on it. Very formal. Then we began. As promised, I got to go first. I had her do everything to me. Every possible thing that can bring pleasure to a human body. Every thing that can start with pain and bleed slowly into bliss. Vice versa. Think of the thing that you have always--always--wanted your lover to do, but were afraid to ask. Because you were ashamed. Because you thought they'd judge you. Because you were afraid they'd think you were one sick, sick fuck. That is what I had her to do me. Over and over and over.
When we were finished--hours, days, weeks later--I was raw, hollow, drained dry.
You're turn, I said.
She said, Tie my wrists.
I did.
Now hang me from the ceiling.
I did.
Go to that drawer over there and take out the knife.
...I did.
Cut a piece off, she said. Cut a piece of me off. And eat it. I hesitated. She reminded me of our handshake deal. She'd kept up her end of the bargain.
It was a small piece. The size of a quarter. Right above her ass. There was less blood than I expected. I want to see you, she said. I want to see you eat it. I swallowed it like a raw oyster. Slurped it down whole and wet. It slithered down my throat but not before I tasted it. It tasted exactly like cherry licorice. The sour whips they don't make anymore.
I used to chew on them during summers at the lake while I watched the older girls go swimming.
Again, she said. I cut off another piece. This one tasted just like Mary Alice Whitford--my 11th grade English teacher. Another piece. My favorite strawberry lube. Another piece. The metallic flush of adrenaline when you fuck in public. I kept cutting. Kept eating. Swallowing it all down. Piece after piece.
Each one different.
My first cigarette.
Strands of hair caught in my teeth.
Wood-aged bourbon served in a juice glass because that's all we had.
My first boyfriend's cock.
My last girlfriend's sweat.
She watched me. Every time.
She got off on it. Got off on me getting off. The cutting got harder. I had to saw through muscle. The first time I nicked bone, she asked me to stop. I didn't. I kept going. The flavor became strange. Like things I had never tasted
but someday will.
My last glass of wine.
The lips of the child I'll give birth to.
She begged me to stop. I just cut deeper.
Into things that were never supposed to see the light of day.
The dirt that was under my grandfather's nails when he came in my grandmother. The blood in my friend's teeth when her rapist punched her in the jaw.
The last piece...the last piece was the salty-sweet taste of Amanda Shelley's tongue. She was my first crush. Summer camp. Lean and sunkissed and everything I would never be.
I never told her, never touched her, certainly never tasted her. But I imagined it. I imagined tasting every inch of her.

She drowned in the lake.

We watched from shore as she went under. Once. Twice. Gone.
If..If I had just told her. Taken that moment to say, Don't go swimming. Come over here with me. Under these trees. Where no one can see. If I'd done that...

I've spent my entire life wanting to know what she tasted like. Now I do. Perfect. She tasted perfect.

I still have the knife in my hand. She's still in the bedroom, still hanging. I just needed to...Step out for a second.

She's stopped begging me to quit. Stopped saying anything. She's just watching me now. Waiting to see if I'll keep going.

I'm afraid of what comes next. There's more. Layers I haven't gotten to yet. But I'm going to do it. I'm going to keep cutting. Keep eating. Swallowing her down piece by piece. Tasting everything she is. Everything I am. Everything. Everything...Until...