ᴀᴍᴇʀɪᴄᴀɴ ᴠᴇɴᴏᴍ| Dark Erotica ⛓

VI| Suck Start pt.1

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Hell. 

That's what I was in.

Hell was right there in our awkward refusal to meet eyes as my lovely gentleman pulled his dick from me.
And it fell on my thigh like the heavy meat from inside a sausage roll as I coughed nervously.

How erotic was thou plop Van Vorden.

Scratching idly and sucking down the soul that was hammering on the back of my teeth, my wince was palpable.

The time of filthy revenge sex was over.

I was pretty sure I wasn't a virgin no more.

But most of all, I was struck with one burning question—

A sticky. Yucky. Undignified one at that.

What now?

Considering he'd just screwed me to kingdom come, we lay so far apart, our sweaty bodies on the opposite sides of the bed.
Quite like two folks waiting on a train.

I mean, Agatha didn't exactly brief me on post—coital etiquette.

'Pee. Bathe. Alway be ReSpEcTfuL.' That was her wisely advice. Oh, and her little ominous, 'run.'
Thanks for the sage, Aggie. It meant jumping jack titties now.

Should I have touched him?
Ew no. I'd preferred to have eaten cat shit than willingly place a paw on the lump.
Should I have said something?
Like what, Holly? 'So how was that for you?'
'Thanks for the bag, tag and shag, I'll be on my way. Sorry for shooting your wife!"

Pfft.
I wasn't going anywhere.
That door was locked tighter than a pilgrims pocket.
He had security.
And I was broke as shit.
What could I do? Run out naked and poor to jump in a strangers arms.
Fuck I'd be dead by day—light.

Folks around these parts had more grass than an Arkansas pasture.
I'd be hung high high high with some frontier justice, and the little journalist fella that had a fascination with my femininity would sketch my boobs like turnips in a sack.
Shit, it sunk in.
Really sunk in—
I was on my own.

Did I actually need this fucker?

I grabbed the glass of water sitting on the nightstand and sucked it down.

Maybe.
At—least for tonight anyhow.

So instead of fighting, or running, or bothering to ask—
I did the next best thing as the Pony Express rode from ear to ear and dropped me a parcel that read 'you've been drugged'.

I thought.

Which was probably the worse of all my stupid ideas.

Specifically about the time me and Pa visited a shop in DuBois that had the most ridiculously bad taxidermy.

I remembered how he laughed and laughed until he glowed red.
Then laughed all over again when he ambushed Momma with the little smoking Sqril he bought.