"That's it, baby," he continues, his tone almost soothing, despite the filth spilling from his lips. "Take my cock. Take all of it."
Baby.
My belly flutters, my heart soaring like a fool even though I know it's a runaway utterance. A thoughtless spi...
🌻This chapter is dedicated to the pigeons who live outside my window. They provide excellent commentary on my plot holes and questionable fashion choices.🌻
XOXO, Eme
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Day 30
I can now say, with all the certainty in the world and more, that I have officially lost my fucking mind.
I am, without a sliver of a doubt, completely and utterly insane.
I'm sitting at a very familiar desk, unable to remove the large chunks of mush from my brain as I stare at a very familiar folder casually laying in front of me. I'm trying really hard not to show it, but I'm trembling almost viciously in my seat, struggling to breathe normally as icy eyes focus on me, studying my every move.
I'm not just going to hell for this. I'm going to super hell; to the deepest, hottest, and probably smelliest pit of the underworld for what I'm about to do. And in the meantime, while I'm still in the not-so-glorious land of the living, I deserve every bit of the sea of guilt and bad karma I know is coming my way for this decision.
For my decision.
My choice.
As much as I try to justify my actions, it's the simple truth. No matter how fucked up my life has become, and no matter how desperate I am, in the end, I'm still agreeing to this; to be a married man's whore for three consecutive weekends.
And all in the name of money, I think bitterly to myself.
I breathe out deeply, shuddering on exhale. I can't believe I'm about to do this...
My hand visibly trembles as I try to grip the stupid felt pen, shaking as I bring its pointed tip to the immaculate paper to sign on the line.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Dr. Frost staring at me, his own eyes intent and unwavering, and he's eerily silent. I can't even begin to imagine what he's thinking. I probably don't even want to know.
I really just need to get this over with before I panic and change my mind again.
I hold my breath as my eyes flutter closed. I feel my hand move on its own accord, gripping the pen tightly.
All it takes is two seconds.
And then it's done.
I reluctantly open my eyes again and look down at my signature; a mesh of cursive letters sitting on the long dotted line—physical proof that I, Ramona Lisa Gallo, have agreed to the unthinkable.
The deal is sealed.
And there's no backing out.
***
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