I was at university at the time, and like all students I was finding money very hard to come by, not having rich parents, and not getting along with my mother. She had wanted me to marry this nice lad, but he wasn't for me.
I was doing media studies, public relations, and arts. I thought I had the looks to get on in those fields. I had done some modelling when I was a bit younger, so I thought I might be able to get into that.
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Carrie picked irritably at a small piece of lint on her pristinely starched uniform. She would have preferred to wear civilian clothes but she knew the uniform was expected of her and Jonathon 'Jonno' Clark had deserved her respect.
She sat dry eyed and numb throughout the service, as the vicar droned on about the terrible waste of human life, the selfless sacrifice to protect human rights and finishing up with the predictable blurb about him now being in a better place.
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What can I say? I love anal! I really do! I don't even know how I grew to love it. It just happened. I remember seeing it for the first time in a video and thinking it was interesting. Before I knew it though, it was in every other video I watched.
I mean, I love regular fucking as well, but there's an animal quality to anal that pussy fucking can't seem to reach. Think of a woman's vagina and you're thinking of something sacred.
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"Turn here."
I look at her with suspicion. There were three choices before me at this moment. Continue down the road and eventually make our way back to I-49's endless stretch. Turn right and creep our way through the sleeping country of Natchitoches parish.
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Reid and I had been seeing each other for many months. Our sex was awesome. I knew by his expressions, the feel of his reactions, I could read him implicitly and he me. Best of all, we trusted each other.
He knew how deeply I loved having anal, and as his first experience that way, I was happy he enjoyed giving it as well.
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'I see you're in the paper again, Ms Brune.'
From behind the concierge's desk Davy Markham held up a copy of the local community newspaper with a front page photograph of Josephine Brune ceremoniously planting a tree in front of the new West City Early Childhood Education Centre. 'I've got a couple of spare copies here if you'd like them.'
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The small sign hanging in the window of the entryway was innocuous enough. "Oriental Massage" it read simply. If one wasn't paying attention as they drove by, they'd likely miss it, and mistake it for a plain, white house with an odd location. It's not every day that you see a house in the middle of an otherwise commercial/industrial area. But I was observant, and had seen the sign driving to and from work many times. It always piqued my curiosity.
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There's a faded childhood scar on her jaw. It shows in sharper relief in the flickering candlelight.
She walks to me, letting her cream chemise spill to the carpet. The beauty mark on the inside of her thigh winks at me as she crosses the room.
I had stripped and laid down on our bed earlier, as soon as I saw the lit candles and massage oils on the nightstand.
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The night had wound down, and Amy was on her way back home with one man in the front seat next to her - her husband - and another in the back - their friend Sam. Sam was drunk as a skunk - he'd been knocking back Jack and Cokes all night - and her husband was more than a bit buzzed as well, having had about a dozen beers, himself. Amy had been getting high all night on flattery and friskiness - her own and the others around her.
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