Mark Shargool s’est mis dans la tête de traduire certains de mes petits textes polissons en anglais. Qui suis-je pour mettre un frein à tant d’enthousiasme, hein ? Voici sa traduction de Tu peux toujours rêver.
EDIT: Mark a l’air très motivé, alors j’ai décidé d’ouvrir un Tumblr que j’ai intitulé Exquisite lewdness pour publier ses traductions.
— In my dream, I cried. I screamed like a possessed woman. Do you know why? Because you made cum like crazy.
He’d been after me for months. First by email, then in person, during the dates I granted him stingily, whenever I had a whim to do so. But he was the persistent type, at least that’s what he always told me. Too bad for him; as much as I love to give myself immediately to the impatient, I also love to push the persistent ones to their last gasp. I had stood him up, kept him waiting, broken promises, he was my plaything, ready to crack. Seated next to me in the hotel bar, he fiddled nervously with his third gin and tonic while gazing at me with that hangdog look that I found endlessly amusing.
— Believe me, I can do it. You won’t regret it, he said, gazing at the cleavage that I left open with all the awareness of a real tease. I’ve got a room and…
— My dream first, I answered him with a smile, while caressing the back of his hand from the wrist to the fingernails. He sighed, rubbed his eyes with his thumb and index finger and started drumming impatiently on the counter.
— Ok, of course, your dream. Tell me.
— Well, first of all, you made me cum. But the next instant, you became cruel, menacing. You insulted me. With coarse, vulgar words I didn’t understand. You made me cry and that made you laugh. You made me crawl to up to you…
— I would never treat you like that.
— Will you let me finish? You made me crawl up to you, hacked off my clothes with your pocket knife, even the garter belt that I bought for you. Then, you bent my arm behind my back, threw me on the bed, tied my ankles to the bed legs, and you placed me like that, spread open, with my nose in the pillow, and my behind raised up on a cushion placed under my belly. Then, you took a cane and whipped my ass. I cursed you, I damned you, your ancestors and your descendents….
Anne, you know me now. Such a thing would never even enter my mind…
I saw him squirming on his bar stool, trying to get comfortable. I concluded that my little story, entering his mind, had had an effect. Looking down, with a false, prudish look, I continued.
— Tut tut tut. That’s not all. After a while, you left me like that, alone, sobbing, in that humiliating position, before coming back with some friends, I don’t know how many, but all as nasty as you. They smelled of sweat and cigarettes, they spit on their cocks when they got them out of their flies as they got hard while they laughed and you, you told they what to do, said to them “come on, fuck her up the ass” or “She’s going to suck you like a Goddess”. And that’s what I did, they worked me over one after the other, in the orifice of their choice, made me grind my teeth, made the bed squeak and groan…They didn’t give a damn about dipping their manhood into their buddies’ cum, even when they all made me taste it, until the flavors got mixed together and became one…
I raised my eyes. Beads of sweat had appeared on his forehead. His hand trembled. Finally, he was ripe.
— How could you think like that about me? I admire and respect you, I tell you that all the time! Come up with me, I’ll prove it to you.
It was time to pluck the fruit.
— Listen to me, I’m not going to tell you twice. I want you to make my dreams come true.
17:33 
des rencontres sur les lieux de prostitution tout au long de la nuit de 22 heures à 6 heures
Le 8 mars célèbre la journée internationale des droits des femmes depuis 1977. Si pour beaucoup « le 8 mars, ça devrait être toute l’année » force est de constater qu’avoir une ... 
