Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43478 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 217(@200wpm)___ 174(@250wpm)___ 145(@300wpm)
That dick.
It should be in a museum of fine arts! Long, thick, velvet, smooth all the way to the tip. Not some wrinkled overdone mushroom, no, his dick is something alright, a masterpiece.
I’m not a whore, but after last night I’m thankful I’m not a virgin either. I don’t think for my first time, I could have taken all of him.
If I never have sex again, I can still die one satisfied woman.
I hear Penny and Lilly barking. Knowing they are most definitely angry at me about the night in their crates, I focus on finishing my shower. My hair is going to take me forever to get sorted, so I wash it and condition it, knowing I’ll have to section by section detangle it. That will have to be once the dogs are let out and fed along with the chickens and Matilda, my goat, who I’m sure needs to be milked.
The jobs never end but today I’ll do them all with a smile. I can hear the Harley come to life and know he has left me.
Setting about my tasks, I go through the morning. After my shower, I dress in sweats and a t-shirt, throwing my mess of hair in a bun to deal with later. Thankfully, whatever call that was that sent my Hellion rushing off came early. I’m not off schedule with my dogs after all.
Carrie always takes them out at eight because she lives around the corner and takes her two dachshunds out for their walk. She knows I work late two to three nights a week. It is better for her to have a routine and that became her time with them. Never have I been more thankful than now. I came home to find them in the crates which meant she walked them, fed them, and then let them out to potty one last time. The Chickens have a feeder and I get the eggs each morning. The goat is fed in the morning while I milk her. The cats have a feeder, leaving only the dogs who have to be released and such.
It's not until mid-morning that I get caught up enough to go back in my room. Oh, what a beautiful disaster this is. One thing my grandpa always told us was spend money on our mattresses, and I am sure damn glad I listened. Don’t ask about my tires, though.
Stripping the bed down, I pick up my phone, sliding it into the pocket of my sweatpants.
I have his number.
The smile comes naturally, and I feel like a stupid teenage girl who got her first kiss. I don’t even know his name, but I have his number! I am probably the definition of stupid right now. I can’t even blame the alcohol.
The temptation to look for his number is there, but the fear of rejection is dancing around in my head. What if he gives me some bullshit number? Like I call and it’s his wife who answers.
Oh my god, what if he’s married?
Way to go, Sara. The first time you throw caution to the wind, you do it huge.
Since the pandemic we have been scheduled three required office days or field days with an office in person check-in per week, one of which has to be a Monday and one of which has to be a Friday. Our other two days are remote. Thankfully, I don’t even have to bother telling my boss or anyone that I’m home today, it is already expected.
My car, though, I have to sort that.
How did I let myself lose control?
Deciding I can’t handle thinking about the most epic sex and mistake of my life anymore, I sit down to work. My job is the great escape!
Hours pass with me at the laptop filling out grant request after grant request, submitting for permits and approvals. Penny sits to my left and Lilly on my right, they snooze away like our whole world wasn’t rocked last night.
The dryer dings for my bedsheets and I decide I’ve worked enough. Closing things down, I put my bed back together and finally look at my phone.
Eight new text messages.
Carrie -didn’t see your car earlier, do you want me to let the girls out to play?
Usually, I’m home on Tuesday’s and she knows I let the dogs run around for at least an hour to get the zoomies out. I did do that earlier of course. Shooting a reply, I let her know my car is in the shop.
Uncle Tommy – Metallica tribute band is playing in Downtown Swansboro this Sunday night, you wanna go?
Leave it to Uncle Tommy, the man who is almost seventy, to want to go rock out to a tribute band. Sending him the absolutely text, I smile. Uncle Tommy doesn’t have kids of his own, but he does have a special bond unique to each one of his nieces and nephews. Our bond happens to be about rock, heavy metal, and music history.