Twisting the door handle, it doesn’t open until I yank harder than I’ve yanked my dick all month. I’m greeted by an irritable-looking Flo, who asks, “What the hell is going on over here?”
Already distracted and jumpy but now annoyed by her presence, I snap, “What’re you talking about?”
“All the noises over here! Are you shooting a gun at the walls?”
I nod, more serious than I normally would be. “Those damn cockroaches have worn out their welcome.” She just stares at me, and I edgily hold onto the door. “Sarcasm. It’s my gift to you. Now—”
“Are you making all that racket with that chippy you had here?”
“And which one would that be? I have a lot of those.”
“Oh. Well then, the mouthy blonde?”
“Definitely not her. Her mouth wasn’t that great.”
Flo smiles, and I’m sick on so many fucking levels. “Looks like you’re having a bad night.”
I grip the door tighter. “What gives you that impression?”
“The noise. You seem frustrated and upset. I’m good at...cheering up.” She laughs, and I’m now the one who stares, infuckingcredulous that she’s actually taking this detour.
It’s my turn to laugh, shaking my head. I then take abrupt steps toward her, still grinning, as she backs away from me. “You know what I’m good at? Fucking my married best friend.” Flo’s eyes open wider than her mouth on any given Saturday night. “And hell if she wasn’t worth the damn wait. Now I know exactly why men are drawn to her like moths to a goddamn flame. It was a fuck to end all fucks. Didn’t have time for a condom. Didn’t even give a damn. We screwed hard and eager. When I shot my wad, her neighbors felt it. She then deep-throated me before I closed shop if you know what I mean, and I’m sure you do. She gagged on me, even with a semi. And what do you know? She got me hard all over again, and I plowed her the second time. That one was on the couch instead of up against the wall. She’ll stockpile my creampies for days. Pulling out, I even dribbled cum all over her sweet cunt like icing on a snack cake. I then smeared it all over her clit until she yelled my name for the third time. My real fucking name. All this right before her husband walked in the door and kissed his wife, who had my hot jizz leaking down her thighs. I probably knocked her up. Again. Don’t even care. How’s your night?”
Clinging to the metal balcony railing now, Flo gawks at me. I could shove a can of beer into her mouth right now, and she wouldn’t flinch. She’s probably into that, though.
I shrug. “Yeah, so I’m not in need of a cheap thrill. I’m doing just fine on my own.”
She quickly nods, actually somewhat scared of me. So am I. “Uh... Sure. Okay.”
Not waiting needing this bullshit, I spin around and storm back inside, slamming the door in her fugly face as my eyes water. I don’t know if it’s from her cigarette/stale cum stench or from what I just told her. Or because I’m a goddamn crybaby. I don’t even know what hurts more. The lies or the truths.
When my phone buzzes in my pocket, I shakily pull it out, not wanting to see the text but knowing I won’t be able to avoid it. Hadley. She wants to know if I’m okay, of course. I wonder if her husband would ask me the same thing.
Probably not.
Sniffing, I shake harder than before answering the fucking door. I can’t even believe I told a dollar-bin prostitute all that. This night has not been one for shining moments to write home about.
How do I proceed with Hadley on Monday, and for the rest of my life? How do we keep this a secret, even if the entire office believes we’re already fucking? How do I face my reflection every damn morning?
Stopping at my bedroom doorway, the answer to my problems pops into my head.
On a sudden quest, I have a fuckton to accomplish in so little time. I go to my bedroom closet and dig out my suitcase, dropping it and then nearly tripping over the damn thing in my rush. Frustrated with every goddamn thing, I snatch it up from the floor and hurl it to my bed, where it lands with an underwhelming bounce. Must be symbolic or some shit.
Throwing as much as I can into it and not caring what clothes I grab, I also shove various things throughout my room onto the bed, creating a pile. Rubbing my hands over my eyes, I blink away the blurriness. I don’t have time for fucking tears that shouldn’t exist. I brought it all on myself.
Going into the bathroom, I seize a handful of things I’ll need. I cram my suitcase with as much as I can, and when it’s too full, I find two gym bags and fill those.
Now, if only I could find something to hold every single reminder of tonight.
And every day after.
Because I don’t know how the fuck I get past it.
UNHINGED
Coming 2019
About the Author
Ren Alexander lives outside Detroit, Michigan with her husband, two daughters, and two cats. Originally from Wheeling, West Virginia, she has a degree in criminal justice from West Liberty University, where she also took a creative writing course. She always dreamed of being a writer but never thought she could actually do it.
UNSCREWED is her seventh novel.
Email Ren: [email protected]
Visit Ren:
www.renalexauthor.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/RenAlexanderAuthor
Twitter: @wild_renalex
WILD SPARKS series:
Chasing the Wild Sparks
Daring the Wild Sparks
Igniting the Wild Sparks
Enduring the Wild Sparks
Beckoning the Wild Sparks
The Keys to Jericho
UNSCREWED
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Also by Ren Alexander
Wild Sparks
Chasing the Wild Sparks
Daring the Wild Sparks
Igniting the Wild Sparks
Enduring the Wild Sparks
Beckoning the Wild Sparks
Standalone
The Keys to Jericho
Unscrewed
Unscrewed Page 37
