“How many times are we going to go through this? I was just kidding”
“No you weren’t”
“Oh, so you can read minds now, can you?”
“No. Just yours”
“Okay then, so what am I thinking right now?”
“That’s easy. Bollocks, she’s got me bang to rights”
“Actually no, I’m thinking I’ve had about as much of your bullshit as I can take”
“My bullshit?”
“Of course, how stupid of me. I’m forgetting you’re perfect”
“Don’t even think of turning this around on me. You’re skating on thin fucking ice you know”
“Do you ever listen to yourself? Thin ice. You’re priceless, do you know that?”
“All I know is that I must need my head checked for… oh I’m sorry, did I say something to amuse you?”
“Don’t let me stop you”
“I was going to say for sticking around. I don’t need this”
“Don’t give me that. You love this”
“Got me all figured out, haven’t you?”
“It really ain’t that hard”
“Fuck you”
“Right back at cha”
“Get… out”
“My… pleasure”
“I mean it, get the fuck out of my face. Just looking at you makes me sick”
“That’s funny, I was just thinking the same thing”
“GET OUT!”
“You’re serious, aren’t you? Where am I supposed to go?”
“I don’t give a flying fuck where you go. What part of get out don’t you get? Do I need to draw you a diagram?”
“It’s just gone 12.30 in the morning”
“I’m seriously gonna lose it in a minute”
“Alright. Alright. Jesus, all this over one stupid joke”
“It’s more than that and you damn well know it”
“Well we’re not gonna achieve much by you kicking me out on the street”
“I’m serious. I can’t be around you right now”
“Listen, I’m sorry if what I said upset you. It was a flippant remark to make and it won’t happen again. You have my word”
“Please leave”
“Seriously?”
“Please… just go”
“Okay. I’ll give you some space. Look, if you want me I’ll be over at Cassie’s. I should be able to crash there for the night. You don’t have to do this, you know? Honey? … Honey?”
…
“I’ll see you later then?”
…
________
Great. The moment I’m out the door and I can hear her crying. Now I feel like the biggest bitch on the planet. I just have to fuck it all up don’t I? Honestly, it’s like an art form I’ve perfected over the years or something. It was just a joke however. I mean, what crawled up her snatch and died anyway? At least I have a sense of humor. Not like Little Miss High & Mighty in there. Heaven forbid she crack a smile from time to time; that would be far too irresponsible. Stupid bitch. The problem is, I love that stupid bitch. For all her flaws, none of which she accepts any responsibility for I might add, she’s the only person who even vaguely gets me. Sure, we shout the odds on occasion, what couple doesn’t? But beneath that tough exterior is a soft, gooey centre and I’m the only one she lets close enough to see it. So what do I do? Make snide comments about the one thing I know she’s super sensitive about. I really am a twat.
At any rate, it’s done now. If I know Eve like I think I know Eve, it’d be in my best interest to give her the space she needs. Of course, that does leave me in something of a fix here, especially since I just remembered that Cassie isn’t due back from Milan until first thing Monday morning. By my estimations, I’m well fucked. You know it’s gotten bad when there isn’t a single person you can hit up for free room and board at 1 am. It’s not even like I can crash out on the stairwell; not since Mr. Pendergast started performing his hourly sweeps. The way I see it, that leaves me two options and I don’t much fancy my odds with one of them. Besides, going back now would be like an admission of guilt and I still uphold that she totally over-reacted. So what if she got her period. I get cramps too. Menstruation isn’t just exclusive to her although you’d think it was from the way she carries on. Fuck it, park bench it is.
Jesus Christ, it’s cold. Smart move on not grabbing a jacket Lexie, you dozy clot. I can’t spend the night in these conditions; my tits are already threatening to drop off as it is and I’ve only been out here thirty seconds. I can just see it now, you know. Some early bird jogger stops to do up his laces and there I am, frozen stiff like Jack Torrance. Cause of death – being a fucking moron. I wouldn’t mind but the apartment gets extra toasty around this time; which means she’s up there sweating like an Arabian whore while I’m out here steadily solidifying. Touché. And with that, I guess I’d better claim me that bench bounty before some opportunist bum beats me to it and then I’m truly in the jizz. No use standing around here waiting for my joints to stiffen when I could be wrestling a vagrant to the ground and potentially contracting tuberculosis.
I’m actually starting to feel decidedly uneasy. Not sure why but I can’t shake the nagging feeling that I’m not alone out here. Believe me, I’m usually the last one to shit my knickers. Getting spooked is Eve’s thing, not mine. But I’ve got this sick feeling down in the very pit of my stomach and it appears only to be getting worse. It doesn’t help that the park overlooks Sully Woods and that shit doesn’t need evocative lighting to make it creepy. Every now and then, I swear I see something moving about in the undergrowth. I know it’s probably just my over-active imagination running away with me but still don’t fancy my chances of catching a solitary wink of sleep out here. Something tells me it’s going to be a long night.
“Excuse me”
“HOLY FUCK!”
“It’s okay. I just came over to see if you were alright”
“Do you make a habit of sneaking up on people?”
“You look like you could do with the company”
“Oh, really. And what gave you that idea?”
“The fact that you’re shaking”
“Don’t know whether you’ve noticed, but it’s sub fucking zero out here”
“I had. So are you locked out or something?”
“Had a row with my partner actually”
“And he kicked you out?”
“She did yes”
“You know you’re going to catch your death out here, don’t you?”
“No, really. You think?”
“Would you rather I just let you be?”
“I’d rather you tell me why you’re sneaking around”
“I’m not sneaking. I’m walking”
“Walking?”
“Always do about this time. Find it relaxes me”
“Speak for yourself. You know I almost sprayed you with this”
“I appreciate the restraint”
“You appreciate the restraint. Jesus, you almost gave me a heart attack, you know that?”
“I’m ever so sorry”
“You almost were fella. Well listen, it’s not that I’m not grateful for the concern but I’d really like to be left alone, if you don’t mind”
“You can always crash at mine”
“Are you for real?”
“I could make you up a couch. It wouldn’t be any trouble”
“You actually are, aren’t you? Well in that case, that’s very sweet of you. Thank you. But no, I won’t be taking you up on your kind offer”
“You’re aware that it’s supposed to be dropping to minus ten tonight, aren’t you?”
“I’ll take my chances”
“Well at least take this”
Oh my giddy aunt, I’m Emily fucking Brontë. Do men even offer their coats anymore? I’m reasonably assured that altruism died a death way back in the fifties. It’s like I’ve stumbled into a time warp. He did mention something about minus ten conditions however and his jacket is quilted with fleece. But I’m struggling to get my head around why some stranger I don’t know from Adam would see fit to donate his clothing to yours truly. I mean, it’s not like I’ve been all sweetness and light. Christ, I was this close to pepper spraying the bastard. He must think I was born yesterday if he thinks I won’t know there’s a catch. Likely just relishes the challenge of “turning a lesbian”. Yeah, good luck with that. I haven’t sucked a cock since sixth form and would rather eat a bowl of shit than deep throat anything he’s concealing with intent.
“I’ll be fine, thank you”
“Won’t take no for an answer”
Where’s that pepper spray at? Nope, I’m pretty sure that’s my rabbit. I wouldn’t mind but the batteries are flat. Would make a rather solid bludgeoning weapon, I suppose. Aha. Here it is. You take another step bucko and you’re really gonna wish you hadn’t.
“Look, I’ll just leave it here okay. Don’t worry about returning it. I’ve got several just like it. Take care and good luck”
Take care and good luck? I really am a bitch. He’s only upped and left. No forcing himself on me. No chloroform. No dragging me off into the bushes and having his wicked way with me. Just a totally random act of goodwill and then ta-ta. Is it wrong that I feel a little used? Actually, hella curious would be more accurate. It’s been a long time since anyone did something for me that didn’t entail reimbursement of some form. This leaves me in a rather unique position as, while this fleecy fancy would no doubt stave off pneumonia, I’m half tempted just to catch him up. I mean, if he was going to rape and kill me, then he would have done it by now. Eve would be screaming at me right now but I reckon I have to bite the bullet. Really hope I don’t wind up regretting this.
“Hold up. Excuse me. Can you stop a minute please?”
“Everything alright?”
“Rosy. Listen, I’m sorry if I was a bit off with you back there. You just caught me a little off guard is all”
“You don’t have to explain. It was thoughtless of me”
“Actually no, it wasn’t. Quite the opposite actually. Just wanted to say thanks”
“My pleasure”
“Okay, so I’ve said what I needed to say”
“Thank you. I wish you all the best”
Don’t do it Lexie. Don’t do it Lexie. You stupid bint, you’re actually gonna do it, aren’t you? I can’t believe I’m actually entertaining this but it likely has something to do with the fact that’s twice he’s turned his back on me now and I always have to have the last word.
“Listen, I guess there would be no harm in taking you up on your offer”
“Really? Only you didn’t seem that sure back there”
“It’s a lady’s prerogative to change her mind you know. So, does your invitation still stand?”
“Well. Yes. I mean, you’ll have to bear with me while I tidy the place up a little…”
“Don’t do that on my account. You should see my place. How far away do you live anyway?”
“About five minutes walk from here. Beachers Grove. You know it?”
“Yeah I’ve passed through there a couple of times. So are you going to lead the way then?”
“Okay. Well I was heading this way, I normally cut through the estate”
“Whatever works. So have you got a name?”
“Alex”
“No shit. I’m Alexandra”
“Really?”
“Well, my friends call me Lexie. But yes, that’s the name I was born with. Small world, huh?”
“Just got a little smaller”
“So what do you do, Alex?”
“Oh, you know. This and that”
“So what’s this then?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not following”
“Is it this… or that?”
“I would say that this is more this than that”
“Is that true?”
I’m incorrigible. Even though this schmuck has absolutely no chance of earning a gratitude fuck, I still can’t stop myself from flirting outrageously. It’s like a tick. Eve says I’m a shameless attention whore and it’s one of the only claims she makes that I have no answer for. Whether man or woman matters not as it’s just nice to feel desirable. Having been a nobody at school, I reckon I’m long overdue a little scrutiny. Besides, he’s clearly not even vaguely interested. Either that or he’s one coy motherfucker. To me that’s even more of a challenge. Even more reason to slut things up a little. How dare he not wish to ravage me.
“You live alone?”
“Uh-huh”
“Suddenly not that talkative, are you?”
“You just threw me a little back there. What was with the change of mind?”
“I thought what you did was sweet”
“Just seemed like the right thing to do”
“For the record, sneaking up behind folk could be misconstrued as mildly seedy. But you didn’t have to help me and I appreciate the sentiment”
“Like I said, my pleasure”
“So. Alone huh?”
“I actually kind of like it that way”
“By that I’m guessing you got dumped then”
“Why would you arrive to that conclusion?”
“It’s one of the rites of passage. People who say they prefer their own company are usually in that ‘I’m doing me stage’ of a break-up”
“Denial you mean?”
“If the slipper fits. They’re ‘doing themselves’ because it’s necessary to do so. Someone has made them question their own validity and it’s a very private thing finding the answer”
“Or it could just be that they prefer their own company”
“So which one are you then?”
“I prefer my own company. Plain and simple”
“Okay, let me ask you this. When was your last relationship?”
“That’s easy. Never”
“Never? Like never ever?”
“Like never ever. I wouldn’t be the easiest person to live with”
“Why? Do you worship Satan or something?”
“I’m a bit of a creature of habit”
“Would that habit be masturbation?”
“I can feel you judging me, you know”
“Not judging. Trying to suss out actually. It’s normally like my special power but I’m not actually getting much from you”
“Too dark and mysterious for you, is that it?”
“You’re certainly mysterious, I’ll give you that. You’re not a virgin though… are you?”
“Ha ha. I could sense that one coming. No I’m not a virgin”
“So you get laid?”
“I get laid”
“How often?”
“As often as I feel like”
“There you go. Now we’re getting to the nuts and bolts”
“Has anyone ever told you that you’d make a good investigative journalist?”
“Yes, my girlfriend and frequently”
“So what’s going on with you two then?”
“What do you mean?”
“Sleeping on a park bench on the coldest night of the year. I’m guessing you don’t do that to be close to nature”
“We had a disagreement. Actually it was more of a spat”
“So you came out to clear your head?”
“Something like that. I don’t do well with conflict”
“Well, you’re shit out of luck tonight then”
“Excuse me?”
“I take it you’ve been shit out of luck tonight then”
“Erm… yeah, it was a bit of a rough one”
I heard precisely what he said and alarm bells are now well and truly chiming once more. Where the fuck did that even come from? “You’re shit out of luck tonight then”, what’s that bullshit supposed to mean? I know what it could mean. It could well mean that I’m the biggest fucking tool on the planet for falling hook, line and sinker for the nice guy routine. It could also mean that I am indeed about to get raped and killed and not necessarily in that order either. It should mean that I turn around and walk the other way, as far from this closet deviant as humanly possible. But that would mean spending the night on a park bench and I still have my pepper spray so I double dare this motherfucker to reveal his true colors. The night I’ve had, I’m more than prepared to take my chances. You see, what I didn’t tell you about Eve is that our menstrual clocks are directly synchronized. The key difference is that I love to fuck when I’m deep in my cycle, whereas she just becomes an impossible cunt for seven days. Hence tonight’s little disagreement.
The long and short is that I’m a bitch in season and, while men generally make me physically nauseous, nothing gets me wetter than the danger of strangers, regardless of gender. Eve’s full-blown, hates men and all they stand for, whereas I just find them mostly uninteresting. This one however, there’s just something about. If you asked me what that thing might be, then I’m not altogether sure I could supply you an answer. But I’d say it has something to do with animal attraction bizarrely. Don’t ask me why this alpha’s dick would be any less unappealing a menu option than the next buck in line, but I’m kind of starting to want it inside me, you know. Now I’m not suggesting lesbianism to be a switch you can flick on and off when it suits you; but I don’t see why it has to be the be all and end all either. I’m a sexual being with two flavors to choose from. One is sweet and floral to the taste; the other is just nice to binge on occasionally. I get hungry when I’m on the blob.
Still things remain on high alert for both of us. We both know the implication of our last few words as, if we’re heading towards some kind of sexual showdown, then it’s game-on from this point forward. I know he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He knows he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. He knows that I know he’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing. And I know, but he knows about that too. You know? I dunno, maybe I’m just reading into this all wrong and his Freudian slip held no weight. One thing is for sure – I’m about to find out. 32 Beachers Grove. This looks like the kind of squalid dump you’d make a habit of not bringing women back to. I’d lay money on this being his place.
“This is me”
“I could have told you that”
“It is kind of lacking the feminine touch, isn’t it?”
“Hey listen, compared to that iron bench back there, this is the Hilton honey”
I know I didn’t just call him honey. Fuck Lexie, you ain’t Nina Simone bitch. This ain’t the perfect seduction. This is two primal beings fucking until one or both pass out. Survival of the fittest. This guy ain’t your honey. He’s a very real threat to you but that’s what’s got you so wet, isn’t it? That’s what has you feeling all hot and slutty. Better judgement doesn’t even come into this anymore. I’m currently stood right outside the wolf’s den and about to consent to being ravaged. Something tells me that my approval is totally inconsequential. Yet still he hasn’t bared his teeth and the very thought of that transformation makes me positively drip with forbidden desire.
The craziest thing of all is that I’m not even sure what has the fire raging inside me. I mean, it’s not as though I’ve been schmoozed here. Indeed, he has barely offered any indication of being up for this, whatever this might be. So why then do I feel like I’m about to be devoured? Why do I feel so vulnerable and why does that only serve to exhilarate me further? Animal instinct that’s why. It has been a long fucking time since I last felt an urge this primal and I’m not about to fritter that. Not tonight. The hunt is on, and the truth is, it was on the very second he walked away ironically. I always was a sucker for reverse psychology.
“Come in”
“Nice digs”
That’s a blatant lie and the fact that we both know it makes it all the hotter. The truth is, my gaze haven’t left his since I stepped across the threshold and I couldn’t even tell you the color of his walls right now.
“Do you want anything to drink?”
“No”
“Do you want to sit down?”
“No”
Say it, wolf man. Ask me the burning question on your lips and mine too, the one both of us already know the answer to. Do you want to fuck?
“So do you then?”
“Do I what? Want to have a drink or sit down?”
“Want to fuck?”
I like to think of myself as prepared for the come what may but even I didn’t see that coming. Alright, perhaps I did. But on a level I can’t even begin to explain. Study the facts – I’m in a committed relationship, he’s completely the wrong sex and quite possibly wrong on other levels I’m not aware of yet, and I’m betraying myself by even being in this situation. Now would be the time for a wake-up call. But I’m not foolish enough to expect one to come, at least, not one I’m prepared to pay any mind to.
“Uh-huh”
I’m hardly wearing the appropriate footwear to play matador. That said, I could’ve been in running spikes and still wouldn’t have been able to evade this particular charge. All at once, he’s everywhere like some kind of unstoppable sexual scourge. This quiet, reserved gentleman is no gentleman at all. Actually, that’s not strictly accurate. You see, while his hands are all over me, not to mention his mouth, there’s a tenderness to his touch at direct odds with his bestiality. My entire body is tingling and every nerve ending ablaze. With what, I couldn’t possibly tell you as I’m deep in uncharted territory here. But I struggle to recall ever feeling this fit to explode and we only just got started.
Ordinarily I’d make him work hard for every ounce of flesh but I feel utterly defenseless right now. Vulnerability isn’t and never has been a choice weapon to me but the mere thought of surrendering to his ambush is providing the most intense head rushes. That said, I’m not about to allow him to dictate the state of play. Got some predatory instinct of my own, you see. Admittedly I’m up against what appears to be a rather fearsome opponent but let’s see how he fares on the fatigue front. I once had a three-minute climax; although Eve’s tongue is admittedly rather long and nimble. Doesn’t sound too undoable right? Well had I mentioned that I’m multiple orgasmic? This libertine may be about to bite off more than he can chew with this joint. Speaking of table manners, is that his incisors I can feel teasing my shoulder-blade? Steady on there wolf man.
Actually, I find the feeling of his teeth grazing my neck utterly intoxicating as I know damn well he is testing me. He could be pinning me to the floor right here and now, ripping the throat right out of me. But instead he is padding around me, just close enough that I will feel his husky breath on my skin. It’s as though he is sampling my scent, preparing to taste my swelling desire, all the while circling with the same single-minded intent as a beast does its quarry prior to feasting down on its bones. I’m desperate to take a chance and extend my hand to him; offer up a truce of sorts. Each time he brushes past me, the tips of my fingers are afforded the merest stroke of his velvety coat, but nothing more. This is getting some way beyond excruciating.
Hold up, he’s on the move again. Licking. Slathering. Probing. Prowling. I should be feeling pretty breached but nothing in his surprisingly vast repertoire suggests he means me grievous harm. Indeed, every tug of my aching pelt is both preceded and followed by a kiss so delicate that I can barely even discern it. Fuck this is hot. I’m struggling to recall ever before feeling this kind of intensity or anything even vaguely close, come to think of it. Any attempts to appear indifferent seem doomed to fail as I’m being totally betrayed by my sopping wet clit. Every inch of me craves him inside of me. Come on wolf man, huff and puff. I want you to blow my house in.
Still there has been no decisive strike. I’ve heard of playing with your food but this is venturing way beyond that. Perhaps he is looking for a spot of resistance to heighten the thrill of the hunt. His nose is strong enough to sense the wild animal in me also, I’m sure. Maybe it is I who should break the ceasefire; remind him that I won’t come quietly. There’s an unpredictability to his actions that positively screams double-dare to me. I guess I’ll know one way or another if the idea currently hatching in my dizzy head is enabled to play out. Right then, wolf man. Let’s see who the prey is here, shall we?
That’s right, follow my painted fingertips with those big eyes of yours. Watch them trace the drool as it drizzles down my chin and into my sternum. Judging by the fact that those studious peepers of yours just widened, I’m guessing you’re right about primed for a glance of what lies beneath this thin veil of fabric I’m wearing. Tell you what, how about I tear it wide open and let my ruby-red nipples speak on my behalf. They’re feeling ever so vocal right now, can’t you tell? Once more into the fray wolf man.
It’s funny, even though he began greedily nuzzling my ripened berries before I could so much as catch my breath, I still don’t feel under threat here. I mean, I do. God knows what this beast is capable of and, if the big man doesn’t have a clue, then I’m left clutching too. But there’s something about the way those long talons of his are rallying down my spine that offers contrasting security. They’re easily sharp enough to cleave open my flesh, should they so desire. Yet they refuse to do so, instead trailing my arched back right down to the dimple above my ass crack and causing every last tiny little hair to stand rigid in its wake. Lower wolf man, lower. The rewards are far greater down there.
I’m not quite sure what I want more. The man or the beast. But at this precise moment I’m not altogether sure that I even care. I can feel his warm saliva against my spine, his burly tongue as it brushes across each vertebrae in turn. The arch in my back can no longer conceal my need and the musk of my feline juices hangs thick in the air, inviting him to quench freely from my font. I can feel his entire body sloping along my back as he returns topside to release a low, hungered growl into my ear. It’s all I can muster running my right hand through my slit in an effort to release the pressure on my agonized sex. The message he is sending out now is loud and clear. I will be submissive to him. He is the alpha here, not I and I’d do well to remember that. Yet still I don’t feel the urge to scream out in anything other than overflowing desire.
It may be over a decade since I last felt a stiff cock pressed against my quim but I’m reasonably assured that I’ve never felt anything thicker or more formidable. I may be sopping wet but I’ll need to produce more of that sweet sap if I wish to accommodate this thick girth in one go. Whether or not I do feels utterly inconsequential as he’s coming now, ready or not and I believe I’d be best served simply granting his battering ram the entry it so forcibly requests. Every consequent thrust brings with it a light-headedness that threatens to derail me but I can feel his strong arms supporting me the whole time, keeping me precisely where he wants me.
I’m quite aware that engagement will conclude on his terms but, for reasons still a mystery to me, it has never once felt as though this is all about him. For a fearsome predator, he sure is attentive. Every twinge of pain is accompanied by a heady shot of pleasure, quite unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. The linen beneath me is drenched right through now and even my tight little asshole has begun to gape as my muscles attempt to grip onto his rampant shaft for dear life. Fill me up wolf man. I want your creamy cum inside of me; flushing me through with each hot spurt. I can feel that spunk rising now, every throb coercing it closer to the tip as my entire body pleads for release. Speaking of which, here comes that big dipper right on cue.
Holy fuck, it feels as though I’m straddling a fire hose. When I said fill me up, I had no idea it would be taken quite so literally. Every time it threatens to peter out, another jet is relinquished, and he’s showing no sign of easing off any time soon either. If anything, it’s getting even more intense. Is that even possible? I know I’ve grown a little rusty in the art of taking a cock in the past few years but this truly is something else entirely. It’s funny the things you notice when you’re in the midst of the most insane climax you ever experienced but I love that his hands are in mine, as though protecting me from the vicious maelstrom that threatens to engulf me at any given moment. How can I feel so safe with the most fearsome predator of them all? Why is every one of my fears laced with such all-encompassing joy? Is this what it feels like to be ravaged?
I need to regroup here. The deed has been done but it’s not over yet, by a long chalk. You see, after the best fuck I have ever had in my life comes a period of serenity, of quiet reflection. However, I find it hard to gather my thoughts when he’s still inside me as he sleeps pressed up against my spine. With every low, grumbling breath comes a deep throb in his loin, just to remind me that I’m some way from out of the woods yet. If the mood takes him, he could strike again, this time with far less mercy and the craziest thing of all is that I’d not raise a single objection. I know how preposterous this must sound; what with my sexual preferences and all. But we’re all ultimately just animals right? Is a feeling like this to dismissed on account of gender? Trust me, I didn’t go through bloody hell to come out as a lesbian just to find a scene or a crowd and have always felt a little uncomfortable with being labelled anyroad. Tonight, with this mystery man, I’ve been able to just be.
________
I’m still a little shell-shocked, you know. My mind could only race so far and eventually I drifted into the most peaceful sleep I think I’ve ever had. When I awoke in the morning, he was still inside me, still pressed up tight against my back, but I could feel his eyes on me the very second I came to. One more kiss we shared before I padded off to reclaim my far-flung clothing and it was long, hungry and delicious. Then I slipped quietly out the door with not a single word uttered from either of us. He could have lunged from the bed and cornered me where I stood. But he didn’t. Yet this was no simple rejection from either party, quite the contrary in fact. I guess it’s just one of those times when words can never hope to cut it.
Reality check. It’s 8.30 in the morning and Eve leaves for work at nine so I think I’ll grab a coffee, a real black one, and bide my time until she’s gone. After that, I’m feeling a long, relaxing bath with oils and shit do I need one. I don’t know what will come of Eve or I in the long run but I do know I’ll never speak of last night to another living soul. As for the wolf man, I couldn’t tell you if our paths will ever cross again and certainly couldn’t predict what would happen if they did. But I do know one thing. I feel alive, galvanized even. There’ll no doubt be another blazing row soon; probably even more incendiary than this one. When there is and I’m given my marching orders effective immediately, the first place I’ll look to is the sky. I wonder why.
You have been reading…
