Page 28 of Whirlwind

Leaving behind your trail of bitter

Under these, my last lines, there were new words. Not my handwriting.

Think you have all the power

So much sour

Why am I paying for your sin?

No way I can win

Let me me pour you a bitter

My veins filled with simmering liquid.

I read it again.

Memories of Violet seared through me. Her large eyes filled with surprise, mouth filled with my cock, her skin wet with my cum, her breathy words urging me on, fingernails digging into me as we slid against each other, inside each other. Holding each other afterwards in a rough, rich silence.

I closed my eyes. I could smell her on me. Still taste her musk in my mouth, on my lips. My hardening cock filled my warm hand. I read the lines over as I stroked myself.

Violet…

Violet.

My cum splattered the pages.

12

Violet

Luckily Lenore’shouse wasn’t far from the center of town. I walked quickly in the early morning quiet which I knew wouldn’t last much longer, to the Meager Grand, opened up, and made myself a triple espresso with a bit of whipped cream.

I was tired, sore, but for the best reasons. Certainly not because of some horrible nightmare haunting me, keeping me awake, stressed out.Thatnightmare. No, no nightmares last night. I grinned to myself as my tongue swiped at the cream.

Within ten minutes Shelby, our full-time employee showed up. Right on time as always.

“What are you doing here this early?” She gave me her wide-eyed OMG face. “I thought you and the family were—”

“We are.” I marched her back out the door, locked up again, and had her drive me to the Tingle to pick up my car.

“Why is your car here?” She pulled up alongside my Cougar in the empty lot.

“You don’t want to know.”

“You’re a bad, bad girl, Violet Hildebrand.”

We both laughed. “Don’t tell anyone how bad.”

“Your secrets are always safe with me, Violet.”

“Thanks, Shel.” I got out of her Honda.

She took off and I got in my car and started her up. I flipped down the sun visor and looked at myself in the mirror, my fingers brushing my lips. What a night. No smudgy, grungy signs of all that wild. I’d washed my face this morning at Beck’s.

I reached into my extra makeup bag that I kept in the car and applied mascara, a touch of brown eye pencil, and fished out the lipgloss. Gloss? No. I dropped the slim wand back in the bag and grabbed my dark red lipstick from my purse. I was in the mood for bold statements this morning.

Ten year anniversary memorial, here I come.

---