Countryside and love

Chapter One

Waking up at eleven in the morning, with no work to stress her, bills that are sorted, birds chirping, is how she wanted to live her life.

Elizabeth, yes, Elizabeth, her mom, pushed her out of her vagina, brought her to the world, and named her black ass Elizabeth. Something along the lines, "Manifesting your queendom."

Elizabeth moved to a very small town in England about three months ago. Away from the nonsense of London, the unspeakable roads, the knife cases, cheating boyfriend, backstabbing friends, bitch ass coworkers, and the most traumatising of all, perverted boss.

Her boss, Peter, yes his name is Peter, had the audacity to run his fingers up her skirt in the name,

"Your curves have been calling me since you walked in here for an interview."

Mind you, she was a fresh graduate. Twenty-two, scared of the corporate world. How her body called him is beyond her, his wife was sitting next to him in the interview room. A very gorgeous woman, a bitch who needs to be beaten up, but nevertheless gorgeous. What she saw in the bald headed obese diabetic sleazy greasy man in his forties, is to this date, beyond her.

One thing was true, though: she indeed packed fantastic luscious hips and ass and full breasts. Yes, they gave her back aches, but looking delicious in all her dresses was worth the pain. At least, that is what she tells herself.

Looking back at it, that man has been creeping her out for a very long time. But she ignored all of that and focused on her work. She did not have a choice to walk out, because she knows all too well the people of this rotten world are not generous to a black girl, who by the way lived in a white man's country.

And in that moment, he sneaked his hands up her skirt in one move and touched her labia, his drunk stinky breath on her neck, all eight years of working in that company crashed on her. She did not know what had happened. All she remembers is her swinging her head back and swinging it right back with full force and landing it perpendicular on someone's nose.

How she ended up in police station with a torn dress, one shoe, bloodied knuckles, and a ripped wig she didn't know. She remembers too well how the policemen walked past her, giving her dirty looks and some not even hiding their amusement and laughing. At least one was decent enough to offer her a blanket.

"Well, you left some memorable scars on him, lady. Good for you."

That is all he said as he walked away, shaking his head and laughing.

As for the bitch ass coworkers, they had the damned audacity to blame her for the boss coming on to her in the name,

"Why did you dress like that if you did not want a bonus from him?"

Let's just say she almost had another visit in the police station, this time with someone's hair in her fist.

She also recalls how she walked in on her oh so beloved boyfriend, tongue deep in her friend's vagina, lapping as if it was the fountain of youth. But the highlight of that moment she walked on, she atleast got out knowing that she wasn't sexually broken and he was indeed bad at sex, because her friend literally rolled her eyes not of pleasure but boredom and faked a moan. Best thing to walk into if you ask her, ten out of ten experience.

As she lays in her small bed, her head facing the window black curtains not drawn, just small light coming through it, she thought about her life then. She was not worried about her financial status. She bought this cottage for a cheap price. Luck, that is what it was. So a place to sleep is sorted. As for clothes, she had plenty, too plenty in fact. And a bonus? Everything was cheap in this town. Food, she buys groceries to hold her for an entire month, so that was not a bother. Another bonus? She forgets to eat. Once she sits down with a mug of tea or coffee and a warm fudgy brownie with a good novel, she is sorted.

As for family, they could all eat shit and die for all she cared. Her mother died years ago, and all those years, she lived in hell with her siblings until she moved out. Also another best decision she made.

She did not have someone to bill nor bills to worry about. Just how she would wake up from this oh so comfortable bed to wash up and eat something before she actually dies.

She sat up straight and stretched her arms and screamed. It is not a good stretch if you haven't let out a good scream. Not a groan or moan. A scream. And another bonus? She did not have any neighbours to worry about. She was living the life.

She exhaled and closed her eyes briefly and put her head back on the pillow, snuggling to her blanket.

She slept for more than fifteen hours. She felt tired and exhausted. Now would be a good time to take a nap to rest her exhausted body, was it not?