A steamy, feminist take on erotica, Vagina Dentata is what happens when p***y grabs you. More
My vagina is picking its teeth with the bones of the last man. “We should go out tonight,” it says.
“I’ve got stuff to do,” I say. “Sorry.” I’m on my laptop, trying to get work done. A few bones sit on the floor around my feet, underneath my desk, and on the floor. The clothes of the last man are in the corner, and I’ve got to take them to the Goodwill. Can’t let these things pile up.
“You know what you want,” my vagina says, in that gravelly, sexy voice it has.
God, it knows all of my buttons. I think that’s why it uses a man's voice to talk to me. It knows I’ll listen, and then I’ll start thinking about men. Oh, men.