Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109178 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 546(@200wpm)___ 437(@250wpm)___ 364(@300wpm)
She realized after that encounter with her client, tense conversations with her mother as of late, and a man who she was torn up about who had the audacity to walk away from her good, wet pussy, carting a full-fledged hard on to boot, that her feelings for Lennox were clouding things, too. She now didn’t have a strong desire to be naked in front of strange men. She had no feelings about it all, in fact. It didn’t feel bad, or good—just something she did, going through the motions.
Feeding their kinks, getting paid well for their weaknesses, and taking control of their libidos didn’t give her the zing she typically enjoyed. She’d mulled this last night as she stripped down to her bare flesh on that stage—a thought she’d never entertained before when her clothing hit the floor and her legs fell open into splits. It was as if Lennox was wielding some sort of spell over her now, and she’d never even fucked him. Frustration crawled up her neck like an insect, biting hard—an annoying tingling sensation that was now tapping on her shoulder and whispering bullshit in her ear. Reminding her that her journey wasn’t over. It had just begun.
Maybe that’s what they call a conscience? No longer fighting it, she made her way down the legal books aisle and studied the offerings. Some paperbacks offered textbook legal advice, others were self-help in nature, and a few were geared towards those going professionally into law. Students interested in a particular field. She picked up a book and read the title: The Tools of Argument: How the Best Lawyers Think, Argue, and Win by Joel P. Trachtman. Flipping through it, she discovered a few passages that caught her interest, then closed the book and placed it in her basket to purchase along with the cookbooks. Minutes later, she found herself in the romance book aisle.
Her body warmed as she checked out some of the steamy covers. She considered her reaction to be amusing, yet refreshing. It took a lot to get her turned on nowadays, but something about the glossy covers of smooching paramours in lust-fueled embraces gave her all the feels. Corny, cute, or sexy as hell, they called to her, bringing forth memories of her early teenage years where she and her girlfriends huddled together at the local Walgreens after school, giggling while reading sleazy words printed on off-white pages in romance novels, and flipping through cheap magazines that published poorly edited erotica aimed to titillate and arouse such as Bronze Thrills, and similar periodicals.
She stood there for a moment, eyes closed, traveling Memory Lane as the smell of hot coffee wafted around her. The magazines always smelled like wet newspapers, and the pages were thin. That drugstore smelled like perfumes, bubble gum, and cherry candies. That old Chinese pharmacist, whose head was shaped like a misshapen egg, would glare at us from over his glasses.
On the covers of the magazines she and her friends found so amusing were people that never matched the descriptions in the stories printed inside the pages. Like older guys with greasy Jheri curls being passed off as the sexy lead role, while in the actual story, the guy was only twenty-two, built nicely, and had a fade. Pointing out the stark differences, they’d laugh hard, then point to the dirty passages and crack up all over again:
Jerome laid Delilah down on the small, rickety, iron bed in his prison cell, and said, “I’m gonna bust your tight little cherry tonight, girl. You about to take all dis dick, bitch. All ten inches. And you gonna like it.”
The probation officer was a virgin, but madly in love with the dangerous playa. Jerome was the sexiest and most ruthless man in the prison, and he stuck up for her when no one else cared. She owed him so much. She wanted Jerome to be her first, and now was the time to give herself to him before it was too late. He took her handcuffs from her belt and tied her wrists to the iron bars of his cage, then made her lick on her baton.
“That’s right. Suck it. Practice makes perfect.”
He tore off his prison shirt and her pussy got even wetter at the sight of his hard, chiseled hairy chest. All that chocolate was for her and her alone. At least for one night. He grinned down at her, exposing his gold tooth with the bright diamond in it.
Jerome was a big-time neighborhood drug dealer, and all the women around town had been talking about how good he was in bed. The one detail that stuck out the most though was when they were bragging about his big, long, juicy black dick… Jerome said his dick was always hungry, and that it had a mind of its own. Some of the girls had admitted how that big, swinging snake of his had sent several women to the hospital. She didn’t mind being taken away in a gurney and admitted into ICU if it meant she could finally be with the bad boy of Baton Rouge…