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Dropping down to the floor, she leaned her back against the tiny island separating the kitchenette from the room. A tear escaped the corner of her eye...dropping onto the silky material of the dress. Her eyes clouded as emotions overwhelmed her and her body began to shake. She had completely blown it with Marcus. That same angry voice that always stayed at the back of her mind shouted out to her that what happened was inevitable. Sooner or later she would have ended things between them, but she. You watch me looking, my eyes traveling over your body, noticing the sizable bulge in your pants and you can see hunger in my eyes. Slowly taking the remote from me as I am lost in a haze, staring at your crotch, you hit a button and the TV comes alive. This snaps me out of it, and alerting my husband. "Finally!" he shouts and he quickly grabs the remote from you. "Were there any other TV's in the house giving you issues?" you ask my husband. Hubby doesn’t answer. He is already completely. I put the towel back over it, dropped my shirt over that, and then stepped into the curtain before I could change my mind.It gave way to another curtain and more sound. More sex. Slaps, moans, a sharp cry. I pushed through to another, heavier curtain. I could now identify that some of the sounds of pain were from men, as well.I pushed through that curtain and finally saw light. Dim, but warm, yellow light.And a massive room. And sex.It was nothing like the outside of the. None did. She had met some interesting women and a lot of sad dolts, mostly male. The work had become a bore.She decided to go to college and dug out her cobbled-up high school transcript, that she had paid for with a blow-job, and had some copies made. She created several letters from fictitious teachers that praised her as a dutiful student and included an unglamorous headshot in each admission request form.She applied to five small colleges in the Northeast and mid-Atlantic. Three schools.
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