I Like Being A Slut I
I made my way towards the bar that was far from my house. I was a woman with a mission— to get f****d like a slut that I was. This feeling came once in a long while, and I loved indulging in it anytime I had the chance. And this was one of my chances.
The hum of the bar vibrated through the worn floorboards, a low thrum against my soles. Dim light, the kind that swallows shadows whole, clung to every surface, painting the scene in hues of bruised plums and spilled whiskey. I adjusted the delicate lace mask on my face, its intricate patterns tracing cool lines across my cheekbones, obscuring everything but the hungry glint in my eyes. Tonight, I was a ghost, a vessel, a c*m bucket.
Tonight, Marsha ceased to exist. Only the craving remained, a deep ache that had cl
