Page 20 of His Atonement
My forehead drops to the cool brick, my chest heaves, body sags.
That was hands down the most satisfying wank I've had since living here, and it is infuriating that it was caused by my current target.
If this is how I'm to react each time I'm within range of thisFrankie, I definitely need to make sure I smoke massive quantities of my lethal concoction or else I may just end up mounting him like an animal in heat.
And that will surely get in the way of all the other fun things I have planned for this stray human.
Looks like I'll be jerking off far more frequently than I already do.
Fuck.
A Not So Fresh Start
Iblindly reach for my phone as it starts screaming “6 Foot 7 Foot” by Lil Wayne, and feel around under my pillow before I remember I threw it on the floor at some point during the night.
The ringing stops just as my fingers close around the Apple product, so I huff out a frustrated sigh and wait for Allie to call back.
I can't call her back, not until she calls two more times or sends me three text messages.
My stupid brain won't allow me to do any different.
So, while I wait for her call, I start taking stock of how I feel this morning.
Tired, but that’s because I've just had a terrible streak of insomnia and last night was the first time I've slept since Granny died, which also means that's my longest stretch in a while. Almost seven days. It's amazing I was able to sell the house, the Buick, plan a funeral, pack, and drive over eleven hours up the coast.
I guesstiredis to be expected.
As is the rigidity in my muscles, specifically my legs.
Surprisingly, my upper body is relatively loose but my legs, man those fuckers are tight and definitely stuck in the fetal position right now.
That sucks.
And it means I'll have to lay here longer than my super full bladder wants me to.
Ah, but I can help things along a little.
I reach out toward the other pillow and as soon as I lift it, I start laughing all over again.
For some fucked up reason, all the bedding—and I'm talking pillow cases, sheets, comforter, even the throw on the end of the bed—are plastered with Nicolas Cage's face blown up to an unnatural size.
And I don't mean Nic Cage from National Treasure or City of Angels, not even Con Air or Face Off. Nope, it's the one from Vampire's Kiss where he looks totally nuts.
For some insane reason, my cousin bought me bedding covered in Nic Cage while he was going all crazypants, and I fucking love it.
It's really unlike Allie to do something like that, but it was a much appreciated sight after such a shit week, plus the mattress is super comfortable and long enough for my legs, so I can't exactly be mad at it.
"Morning, Nic.” I giggle as I drop the pillow on my stomach and grab my pouch.
Lil Wayne starts yelling again and I frown because nope, still can't answer it, so I take out my bowl to start packing.
My arm jerks as I lift my bowl to my mouth, lighter poised at the ready, but I wait.
My spasms, tremors, whatever you want to call them, come in threes and while my OCD appreciates it, the rest of me does not. Especially when I'm trying to smoke a bowl to get my muscles to loosen up because of course I'd have chorea and dystonia at the same time.
A second jerk of my arm sends my lighter to the floor and the third just pisses me off, but at least they're done for now and I can finally start my morning right.
And just as I crack my backup lighter and inhale that good shit deep into my lungs, Allie finally calls me a third time so I answer quickly. "Ey."
