Xerxes MatzaThe Collector
It’s just a piece of cloth. But for Eddie Green, his s*x life depends on it; his waking life is almost consumed by thoughts of it. He daydreams about it, talks about it endlessly with his friends, and dreams about it at night. For him, a man’s worth is measured by the state of his underwear: the scent he leaves there, and the marks he makes, if any.
A tangled pubic hair, a faint urine stain or an innocent brown stripe is always a plus. This is the kind of underwear Eddie would kill for. Kip has promised him a pair today. Kip knows his taste: rough trade undies with their natural and healthy raw scent—the sweaty kind—where you wrinkle your nose and close one eye to relish the bearable foulness when you sniff them. Kip knows where to get them.
Eddie looks at his
