Millicent Bradley stopped at the mailbox out front of her apartment. She had endured a horrible day dealing with idiots at the restaurant she worked in. The staff was stupid. The customers were stupid. “And I’m probably stupid,” she muttered to herself as she pulled out the letters crammed into the box. They all were window faced. She did a quick count. Seven. “Fucking bills.” She shoved them back into the box. If she was lucky someone would steal them. They stole everything else in the suburb she lived in. “I’ll think about bills later.” And later would come soon enough when her power was turned off and the landlord banged on her door. She shuddered. He was a creepy, middle aged man, who lived with his equally creepy mother, who always rubbed his crotch when he was standing before her. Millicent knew what he wanted. Sex in lieu of paying the rent. Not in this lifetime, asshole.
“’Not ever going to happen.” She sold herself once, six weeks ago, and the memory of it still haunted her. Not because it was degrading to have strange men shove their dicks into very orifice of her body. It was the fact the she had actually enjoyed it which confused the hell out of her. Normal women didn’t do that but then what was normal? “Damned if I know.”
And then there was the mysterious Captain. He was known by no other name and it suited him. The darkly, sexy man had a commanding presence that, even after six weeks, was unforgettable. She blew out a breath. They had only kissed and yet she couldn’t get him out of her thoughts. Millicent had toyed with the idea of going back to the house on Davenport Street. “God knows I need the money,” she muttered as she trudged toward the stairwell of the apartment block. The elevator had been broken for months. As much as that annoyed her, she knew that was why the rent was cheap. Beggars could not be choosers.
Her thoughts turned once more to the Captain. Imposing, strong and mysterious. Millicent shrugged her shoulders. “He probably doesn’t even remember me.” Undoubtedly hundreds of women had been entranced by him. Wanted him. Lusted after him. That was his cache. The sexy man that no woman could have.
Millicent sighed. “What are we going to do, girl?” It was the question that was constantly in her mind. She needed money. She craved sex. She had nothing and no one. The Captain was the last person she should be thinking about.
|Publisher:||Scarlet Harlot Publishing|
|File size:||80 KB|
|Age Range:||18 Years|
About the Author
Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.