LightningSeed
The Prodigal Writer
- Joined
- Jul 28, 2018
- Posts
- 218
LaQuinta, Room 151
Point remote, more volume. Crying still louder.
Panties. Bra. Chewed gum. Cluttered mattress.
Phone lit. Wife:
. 8:37.
“What you wanted.” My voice.
Door opens. Her face red. Cleavage hickeyed. Neck bitten. Ass bleeding, belt-marked.
“But I’m married in fifteen hours.”
“You’ll need makeup.”
She kneels, panicked.
More volume.
Wails.
Point remote, more volume. Crying still louder.
Panties. Bra. Chewed gum. Cluttered mattress.
Phone lit. Wife:
“What you wanted.” My voice.
Door opens. Her face red. Cleavage hickeyed. Neck bitten. Ass bleeding, belt-marked.
“But I’m married in fifteen hours.”
“You’ll need makeup.”
She kneels, panicked.
More volume.
Wails.
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