How does it feel, MacKayla? You have a piece of me in your mouth. Would you like another?
How does it feel, MacKayla? You have a piece of me in your mouth. Would you like another?
When Barrons looks at me like that, it rattles me. Lust, in those ancient, obsidian eyes, offers no trace of humanity. DoesnÆt even bother trying. Savage Mac wants to invite it to come out and play. I think sheÆs nuts. Nuts, I tell you.
I felt the electricity of his body behind me as he reached around me and took the card from my hand. He didn't move away, and I battled the urge to lean back into him, seeking the comfort of his strength. Would he wrap his arms around me? Make me feel safe, if only for a moment, and if only a delusion?
I think dating courtesies are common courtesies that should be practiced in most all civilized encounters. I pine for the days of good, old-fashioned manners.
I think sex with him might undo my essential cellular cohesion.
I was adrift in a sea of questions and if answers were lifeboats, I was in imminent danger of drowning.
I was nothing if not determined; at least twice a week I would wear bright, pretty clothes. I was afraid if I didnÆt, IÆd forget who I was. IÆd turn into what I felt like: a grungy, weapon-bearing, pissy, resentful vengeance-hungry bitch.
If VÆlane were a signpost, it would read Abandon All Personal Will, Ye Who Tread Here.
I'm a bartender. I like recipes. They're concretes. Was the drink recipe for seduction one shot charm and two shots self-deception, shaken, not stirred?
It's just that in the Deep South, women learn at a young age that when the world is falling apart around you, it's time to take down the drapes and make a new dress.
Nobody looks good in their darkest hours. But it's those hours that make us what we are.
Although it may not seem like it, this isnÆt a story about darkness. ItÆs about light. Khalil Gibran says Your joy can fill you only as deeply as your sorrow has carved you. If youÆve never tasted bitterness, sweet is just another pleasant flavor on your tongue. One day IÆm going to hold a lot of joy.
Since IÆve been on my own, IÆve been eating a lot of popcorn, cereal, instant noodles, and snack bars. I have a hot plate in my bedroom, a microwave, and a small fridge. ThatÆs the kind of kitchen I know how to get around in.
Barrons knows virtually everything about me. I wouldnÆt be surprised if somewhere he has a little file that encompasses my entire life to date, with neatly mounted, acerbically captioned photosùsee Mac sunbathe, see Mac paint her nails, see Mac almost die.
Superglue after duct tape a girl's best friend.
BarronsÆ lips twitched. IÆd almost made him smile. Barrons smiles about as often as the sun comes out in Dublin, and it has the same effect on me; makes me feel warm and stupid.
The inspector ate only two of my tiny sandwiches: the first because he hadnt expected it to taste so awful; the second, I think, because hed thought surely the first must have been a mistake.
Driving a hot car is a lot like sex to me, or a lot like I keep thinking sex should be: A total body experience, overwhelming, to all the senses, taking you places you've never been, packing a punch that leaves you breathless and touches your soul. The Viper was way more satisfying then my last boyfriend.
Truth hurts. But lies can kill.
He made a lousy passenger, barking instructions I ignored
What is the greater good but tyrannyÆs chameleon?
He was still frowning at the cake, looking at it as if he expected it to sprout dozens of legs and begin scuttling toward him, thin-lipped, teeth bared.
What the feck?ö Dani snapped when I answered. ôYou sleep like the fecking dead up there! I been calling you for five fecking minutes!
© 2020 Inspirational Stories
© 2020 Inspirational Stories