previously: so, I have been seeing someone… // going on a date with a doctor, she said
optional background music: “fake plastic trees” as covered by Phoebe Bridgers
* warnings: long (as it goes lately...), bad decisions, briefly NSFW: obscured toplessness, spicy memories (text-based), and obscured self-pleasure
The boys were in school for another hour or two, and they had their activities after. Colette had no showings booked, and neither did Audrey. Nobody wanted to buy or sell a house a week before Thanksgiving.
Colette liked this swanky lounge by the water. She liked the smell of new renovation overlying its aged frame. The place served coffees and croissants and an assortment of music. By now, even Colette was tired of pumpkin spice everything, but peppermint wouldn’t be on the menu until after the holiday, so she ordered a frothy plain cappuccino. Audrey took one last pumpkin spice latte in her to-go cup. “Thanksgiving is next week,” she excused herself.
“You do you,” Colette said.
“Friend,” was a loose term for Colette, as in “keep your enemies closer.” But Colette didn’t think of Audrey Roseland as an enemy, either. A competitor, sometimes—there was only so much premium real estate to go around—but they tried not to step on each other’s toes. And that Colette tried at all for this woman probably made her more of a friend than Colette ever had before.
“I really loathe that he’s fucking someone before I am,” Colette confessed.
“Who is she?”
“He said I don’t know her. Met her at work, so she must be as broke as he is. I picture her bleach blonde, tramp stamp, missing a tooth, big fake tits.”
Audrey smirked. “You’re the one with the big fake tits, darling.”
The two of them had a hearty laugh at that truth.
“You’re right,” Colette said, still snickering. “These are very expensive tits, and he had the nerve to say he liked them better natural.”
“You need to find a man who values an artfully manufactured rack.”
“He always said he wasn’t skanking around, but he’s living with her already? That trailer trash moved into his camper with him! Can you believe it? He must have been, though, right? Fucking around? You don’t just move in with somebody that fast. Right?”
Audrey shrugged and didn’t answer. She was a thoughtful person, and Colette respected that about her. She was a snob, but she wasn’t cruel. Colette valued the truth, but she understood that for some people, being nice meant not telling the whole truth. Little white lies, careful omissions to soften the blow.
“So, why aren’t you dating first?” Audrey asked.
“The boys.”
“Nah, send them to their dad. Take a weekend off.”
“Ugh, I can’t,” Colette moaned. “On principle. I’m in too deep with it, I can’t give in now. He’d feel like he won or something.”
“Well, I could ask my Gabby if she wants to watch them. She’s sixteen now. She likes money as much as any teenager.”
Colette nodded idly. “I wonder if that could work.”
There was a stately grand piano on the stage. A pianist picked at the keys deftly, but not to overshadow the sultry sound of the young songstress. Her voice was so much more powerful than the expensive instrument beside her. Colette felt herself transfixed, paying attention to the lyrics while Audrey rattled on about choosing a venue for her son’s upcoming wedding, flowers and cakes and her soon-to-be daughter-in-law had still not settled on a dress. “Why would they ever want to be married in March? I know, there’s a venue they want and they can only have it in March. Honestly, it’s going to be so dreary.”
Colette didn’t care about the wedding plans. The sound was subdued to suit the refined venue, but the lyrics were not tame. The song bled with regret and bitterness and utter despair, and the way the girl sang it was like it came straight from her own personal torture. “Oh, wow. This is the most miserable song I’ve ever heard. I think I love it.”
After the song finished, Colette went to the stage. A small table by the piano had some items for sale: printed t-shirts she would never wear, posters she wouldn’t dare hang, and then an artfully printed songbook. Yes, Colette wanted that. She liked what this girl had to say. She wanted to read these lyrics like a Bible. Vicky Garth. The stage name didn’t ring, but that wasn’t Colette’s problem. The girl seemed surprised that Colette asked for her to autograph the songbook.
“You want my autograph? Not his?”
The pianist posed for pictures, but the audience didn’t take any. He seemed momentarily irritated by that, but then he pulled out his phone to click on.
Colette scowled at him. “Who’s he? Don’t sell yourself short for any man.”
The girl was amused by that, and she signed the songbook. Maybe it seemed to resonate with her—or not, Colette wasn’t her mother, and she wasn’t invested in her success—but Colette liked the idea that she might have left something to think about. She hated the idea of another powerful young woman putting all her eggs in the wrong basket for ten years and ending up with nothing to show for it.
———
These slower weeks of the holiday season, Colette finished her work earlier some days. She would come home to find the boys still on a phone call with their dad at the dining room table.
It made her mad, this long distance parenting through a phone, as if that was good enough, as if a thirty-minute phone call after school made up for all the rest. It made her mad, too, that he hadn’t quit this already. He quit almost everything else, so why not this?
She hovered nearby, but not too nearby—she didn’t want to hear his voice. She made herself a cup of coffee, decaf, since it was four in the evening, and took it to the front porch.
She once told Jordan that she had a date with a doctor. Of course that wasn’t true. He was just someone she met at the farmer’s market one day, and maybe she wished it could have been true. He was a beautiful man—mature, intelligent, rich, suave. Maybe she imagined most of those things, because in reality they hardly spoke. He was married. So married, in fact, that he didn’t even flirt back.
So, no, there was no doctor and she hadn’t been fucked in almost a year. She had a possible babysitter now, but no prospects on the dating horizon.
There was a busy rustle of things inside, and then the boys came bombing out the front door.
“Homework finished?” she asked.
“Yeah,” Milo said.
“Eeew, Mom, don’t sit there!” Felix whined. “Everybody’s coming over.”
“I know. That’s why I’m sitting here,” Colette said.
They were a good group of kids, but you had to watch them at this age. The preteen years are more dangerous than when they’re toddlers. So many ways to cause irreparable harm, to destroy a whole life before it even started—drugs, sex, gangs, guns, online indoctrination and cults that could swallow a whole child while they laid in their cozy bed at night. The boys’ phones went in a drawer in the kitchen at 9:00pm, and Colette locked them there until the morning. She didn’t care who thought that was too extreme.
But she gave them some space. She went inside to pee. She got a bowl of pretzels to nibble on and peeked from the windows instead. She didn’t eavesdrop on their conversations unless they shouted them, which sometimes they did.
The other parents kept an eye from time to time as well, though they didn’t have the convenience of living across the street from the park. Zach’s mom was Aurora, a writer, and fine enough to chat with sometimes. Bianca’s mom was Ally, quiet and moody and they didn’t talk much.
Amaya’s mom didn’t make it back from the war. The boys told her that, which was why Darwin Hadley was the only dad to show up at the corner park. Well, the only dad now that Jordan was gone, anyway.
And Amaya’s dad was not ugly.
Colette lived in a world of opinions, where everyone judged everything about everybody. What kind of shoes you wore, what kind of car you drove, whether the curb appeal of your house was snazzy or trashy. Also, how you behaved. Gossip was wildfire in this city. So it never occurred to her to consider a fellow middle-school parent as a possibility.
She had a prospective babysitter now, but no prospective date. Was it wrong to date the father of your kids’ friend? Maybe not if they kept it hush hush, not if it worked out. But what if it didn’t?
In any case, he was coming over.
He asked, very politely, if he could sit with her on the stairs. And she said yes.
She wondered what he knew of her through Jordan, the small talk of dads passed at this street corner while watching their kids play. Or the little nuggets of family secrets that the children passed through each other. All she knew of him was that his wife was gone. And that he must be discreet, and honorable, for not saying the most obvious thing out loud—that she got left—Jordan was clearly not here anymore. That shame could stay buried for another day. So she respected him for that.
What she learned was: he was a detective, not a lowly traffic cop. That showed ambition and drive. And law enforcement? Colette could respect a rule-abiding man. His sense of fashion was boring, but tidy. He still had most of his hair and all of his teeth.
And if the bar was that low these days, then Darwin Hadley exceeded it by miles.
“Oh my god, Amaya, is your dad hitting on the twins’ mom?”
“Eww, no, my dad doesn’t know how to flirt! She’s hitting on him.”
“But why does he like it?”
Amaya makes a retching sound. “I’m gonna throw up.”
The children all looked on with horror as the last thing any of them wanted seemed to be happening whether they liked it or not.
“You know,” Colette said, “I wonder if we should grab a drink together, or something, sometime?”
And Darwin said, “I’d like that.”
Phone numbers were exchanged, and this was possibly a spectacularly bad idea. But, in the limited pool of thirty-something divorcees and widowers, this man was not a bad option. And Colette wasn’t sure she had much shame anymore.
———
Colette had never properly met her friend’s daughter until now. Gabby arrived to the house ten minutes late, looking just like her mother except bored out of her mind already. But money was money and sixteen year-olds needed it, so here she was regardless.
Colette handed her two twenties for the pizza delivery and began to lay out the rules. “No videos after nine. Teeth brushed and in bed. They can read a little later, because it’s a weekend. If they close their door, that means they’re back on the video games. Take the remotes if you need to, they can be relentless. No candy, no junk food after dinner. Lights out by ten. I will certainly be back before midnight.”
“Whoa,” the girl muttered and scowled at her like she’d rather be at home doing her calculus homework.
Her boys were equally amused and disturbed at this odd occurrence. It had been too long since Colette had even taken a night out with her girlfriends, and she and Jordan hadn’t gone out together on anything like a date since before the boys were conceived.
“I’m going out with a friend,” she had told them, but it was possible they knew it was a date. It was possible they even knew who the date was with, since the children had all bore witness to the asking. Should she have asked them what they thought about it?
Did Jordan ask them what they thought before he started banging the camper tramp?
Colette assumed not, so she would do as she pleased.
“Good night, be good,” she ordered the boys. Then she left the babysitter to it.
She and Darwin had agreed to drive separately. Colette was an independent woman and she loathed to leave herself vulnerable by not controlling her own transportation. There had been some discrepancy about where they would spend their evening tonight. She scoffed at his first and only idea—bowling. As if. Having no better ideas, they agreed to meet at a popular nightclub at the waterfront in nearby Copper Harbor.
“So you’re not into bowling?”
“Absolutely fucking not,” she laughed. “Have you seen my nails?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Looks like you could do some damage with those.”
She flashed him a sly smile. “Only if you’re into that.”
A nervous look washed over his face. He didn’t seem to get it. Or else he was just that pure. Or else maybe Colette didn’t remember how to flirt. She and Jordan never flirted. They fought and they had angry makeup sex, and that was about the extent of their entire ten years together. And she was sorely out of practice at this.
They weren’t able to linger outside talking for long, or failing to flirt as it was, because the late November night had dumped a layer of flurries on the ground and it was barely above freezing outside. So they went inside.
The nightclub was noisy and bright, and all of the college kids were home for fall break. If she was too old for this, so was he.
They got a couple of drinks first and some snacks to nibble on, while he dug up some memes to share with her on his phone. Maybe he was nervous.
They didn’t pay much attention to anyone around them, failing to notice Bianca’s mom was here and she was judging the fuck out of them. That would be a problem for another day, since it looked like she planned to tell the whole Lake District Middle School PTA about their date, and of course Colette would plan to tell her, Mind your own business, you nosy cow!
Colette sipped a potent long island iced tea that threatened to make her head pound. Or maybe that was the pounding music. She couldn’t hear anything, and if they were interested in conversation, then this choice of venue was a terrible one. “Do you wanna just dance?”
Dancing was a blast from the past, a memory from another life. Colette used to love getting lost in a sea of bodies, strange bodies, warm bodies, soft and hard and sweaty bodies. It was almost erotic, almost taboo, how intimate strangers could be on the dance floor. It was a club just like this where she had met Jordan ten years ago, his back pressed up against the wall like a sullen bean pole until she dragged him out to dance. And then, well, you know the rest.
Fuck, get out of my head. Just get out of my head already!
Darwin.
Darwin was handsome, mature, and very well-mannered. He danced close enough that she could feel the warmth of him, the way his fingertips almost grazed her bare midriff and she wanted to beg him, please, just touch me. He smelled good, of cologne and clean laundry. He smelled decidedly not of weed or nicotine, like half the people in this club did. Colette hated smokers. However, while perfectly clean, the shirt and vest combo was terrible and she wanted it off of him.
And he was talking about things she couldn’t quite listen to in this noise. His work, maybe, did he just say blood splatters in a nightclub? His family, his mom—so, okay, his mom is home with Amaya tonight. Colette didn’t care who was watching dear Amaya tonight.
She grinned up at him. “Take me somewhere else.”
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll pull my car around. I can drive. You’ve had three drinks.”
She felt instantly offended. “You were keeping track of my drinks?”
“I’m an officer of the law, Colette. I can’t let you drive after three long island ice teas.”
“Oh, that’s fair, I guess.”
He pulled up alongside the curb where he told her to meet him, and she climbed inside the car. The black leather seats were already warm. It was a sleek, mid-size sedan, a respectable ride. At least it wasn’t a truck that smelled like campfire smoke? They hadn’t discussed where they would go, only that the nightclub wasn’t working out. But now that it was just the two of them, the interior of his car was alarmingly quiet. NPR droned on almost inaudibly in the background and she didn’t know what to say.
“So, do you, like, have your badge on you? Do you carry it everywhere? All the time?”
He pulled it out of his pocket and showed her.
“Huh, okay. How about the handcuffs? Do they ever come out for personal use?”
“Uh, no they don’t,” he said.
Right, he didn’t seem like that type. There were other things she might like him to pull out, but he was being polite.
“Can I kiss you?”
“I was kind of waiting for it,” she said.
He kissed her gently, all lips and no tongue. Or maybe tongue was too much to expect for a first kiss of a first date of the first time in how many years? Colette didn’t know. She honestly wasn’t into kissing, especially the gentle kind, but if it was a means to a different end, then she could endure it. He was warm and he smelled nice and his hand was almost touching her boob. Please! And they were both after the same thing, she hoped. They didn’t need to draw this out to the point of frustration.
She pulled away from his lips and said, “Take me somewhere.”
They both had kids at home. Finally, he understood what she meant. Maybe they were on the same wavelength? Or close to it? “I know of a decent place, by the water. It’s quiet. Coolidge House, have you been there?”
“Oh, I can’t go there.”
“Why not?”
Well, now that she thought about it… Her ex didn’t work there anymore. The woman he was fucking didn’t work there anymore, either. But their coworkers, even though they couldn’t have known her, probably hated her by association. They probably had her name on a banned list. But also, they probably wouldn’t check in with her name.
“Oh, well, I mean it’s probably okay. It’s fine.”
The country inn was more quaint than Colette preferred, but it was clean and quiet, as promised. Discreet. Nobody would see them here. But also, she just wanted to get railed. She wanted to get it over with.
They went straight to their room and locked the door, kissing at the foot of the bed, removing clothing piece by piece as they got closer.
His touch was so gentle. They were as steamy as two teenagers, which was to say, lukewarm. He was a nice guy, wasn’t he? Well, Jordan was nice sometimes, too, but he knew how to handle a woman in bed.
“Bite my nipple,” she whispered.
He stopped cold. “What?!?”
“You know, get some teeth on there. Not like draw blood or anything. Don’t you know what to do with a tit?”
He drew in a slow breath and exhaled it. No, he didn’t get it. Or else he was offended. Or both.
“Wow. I get that people are into all kinds of things, and that’s fine, but that’s the third time tonight you’ve implied I was boring. And it’s kind of a downer.”
So, this is how it ends, already. They moved apart and she put her bra back on.
She was frustrated, she was horny, and patience had never been one of her virtues. Probably there was a way to word that better, but the truth was, he was delicate as a fucking flower and it just wasn’t doing it for her.
Damn, what a waste of a gorgeous man.
He sat on the edge of the bed, unmoving, on sheets that had barely been touched. There was disappointment on his face, not just that he wasn’t getting laid tonight, but an incredulity at her lack of something. If she knew what it was, she might have fixed it. Empathy, probably. That’s what Jordan used to say about her. She wouldn’t know empathy if it smacked her in the face.
It dawned on her then. Darwin kissed like he’s only kissed one woman in his whole life. “You haven’t been with anyone since your wife?”
“Does that bother you?”
Yes, Colette didn’t say, although the truth was written all over her face. This was too much pressure and not enough frivolity. It’s been four years by now, and he hasn’t been with anyone? He probably remembered everything about how it used to be with her, how she liked to be touched, where she liked to be kissed. Colette could relate, actually, because all she could think about tonight was how Jordan used to touch her after ten years of learning her every desire. It was perfection.
So, Darwin was probably feeling the same, but it was different. Jordan fucked off and left her, but Darwin’s marriage never concluded—his wife just died. Colette wasn’t trying to replace a whole dead woman.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to find a new mother for my kid. And if I was, honestly, you wouldn’t be it.”
She thought they were talking about his shortcomings, not hers. “Uh, excuse me?”
He raised his eyebrows at her. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’re kind of a bitch. I’m not bringing that into Amaya’s life.”
“Oh. Should I be more delicate for you? Should I be softer? Well, I am what I am, and I’m quite sick of fragile ego men who can’t handle a woman with a whole mind of her own. So if you can’t handle it, then fine. Go. Just leave, would you?”
She crossed her arms over herself and he got up to dress. But then he stopped near the door, holding his gaze to the floor. “I have to drive you home.”
Shit. She didn’t have her car.
It was going to be an awkward ride.
Dammit, their kids went to school together. It was going to be an awkward next six years.
———
This was Gabby’s first time as the responsible one in a babysitting arrangement, but she was hopeful. She had very fond memories of spending time under her brother’s watch. In the years since her brother moved away, she hadn’t gotten any better at video games, as the boys proved. Felix won every round, and Milo came in second most of the time. But that was fine. Kids liked it when you let them win—or she would let them believe that, anyway.
So they played some games together for an hour, then Gabby ordered the pizza. The boys were fed, entertained, and alive. A job well done, she’d say.
And these kids were pretty cool. They didn’t have an older sibling like she did, and she felt bad for them. She had sixteen years of vital life wisdom to impart. She’d been through things. Like bullying in seventh grade. Maybe it turned her into a little bit of a brawler, but a girl has to stand up for herself in this cruel world. She won’t stand for petty bitches telling everyone she smells like frogs. She might not always smell like a rose, but she does not smell like frogs.
These days, Gabby had many passionate interests. Only half of them included boys. Or men, even, lately. Vale Akiyama. Yes, she is his number one fan, even if her parents’ generation has no idea who he is. So call her boy crazy if you will—some would call her just plain crazy, because she’s been especially interested in cryptozoology lately.
“Crypto-what? Our mom talks about crypto all the time. Isn’t it money?”
“Not that kind of crypto,” Gabby said. “I said zoology. They’re creatures. The kind you don’t read about in your biology books. Doesn’t mean they’re not real. There’s werewolves in the forests of Cascades State Park.”
“It’s not true, dummy,” Felix teased his brother. “Ha ha, look at your face.”
“What if you should be afraid?” Gabby said. “What if it is true? My brother’s been there. He said he saw things.”
“Like what things?”
“Growls in the forest, red glowing eyes. Sometimes you turn your head and almost see a flash of movement, fast and furry.”
“Our dad’s been there,” Felix said. “He didn’t see anything like that. He said it was peaceful. He said he was gonna take us.”
(To be fair, Jordan did pick up his fear of death during his solo week in those woods…)
“Maybe it was a close call. Maybe he didn’t know how close he was to becoming werewolf dinner!”
“It’s kind of boring here,” Felix said. “Nothing like that ever happens here.”
“It wouldn’t. There’s too many people around,” Gabby said, crowing with wisdom. “Cryptids like to stay scarce, make you question your own eyes.”
Felix smirked at her. “Well, did you ever see one?”
“No. Not yet,” Gabby said. “But I will. And I’ll tell you all about it when I do.”
“I don’t know,” Felix said. “Maybe you’re not so cool. You basically just daydream about unicorns all day and stuff, and you never even saw one. But what did you ever really do?”
“Child,” Gabby scoffed. “When I was your age, my big brother used to take me to the junkyard and show me how to blow shit up. You should have seen what we could do back home in Lakeside Heights. The scrap yards here are kind of lame. Just a ton of broken furniture. But even he’s boring now. He got a job. Now he’s always working and paying stupid bills and taxes and stuff. It’s pretty lame.”
“But you have a car. You could take us?”
“Felix, Mom said we’re not allowed to go in her car. She might be a bad driver.”
“I’m actually an excellent driver.”
“What if we walk?” Felix suggested.
“Nah, you might need a quick getaway. But there aren’t any junkyards here anyway. I checked. And I can’t drive you to Washington this weekend. I have school on Monday.”
“Maybe on winter break?”
“It’s closed to traffic for the winter. It’s too cold, too harsh. I’m hardcore, but I’m not stupid.”
“Okay, so spring break then?”
“Mom will never let us,” Milo said.
“That’s why you ask your dad,” Gabby said.
“But, anyway, I only just met you boys. You might be trouble. How do I know what you’re made of? If you got a scrape or a cut, would you wash it off and patch it up, or go crying to your mommy? Do you have the balls to jump a fence? Could you run if there was a junkyard dog?”
“Duh!” Felix boasted.
“I think maybe no,” Milo said.
“I have an idea,” Gabby wondered out loud. “There’s this movie… It’ll scare the piss out of you, or it won’t. If you boys can hack it, then we can talk about werewolves on spring break. But only after my brother’s wedding. My mom said if I ruin myself for portraits, she’s gonna murder me.”
Milo’s eyes went wide. “How are you gonna ruin yourself???”
She shrugged. “You know, sometimes things explode. Sometimes there’s fire and you lose all your hair.”
So they put the movie on. The boys ate popcorn and handled the jump scares pretty well, all things considered. Nobody peed their pants.
Or, well, Gabby had to admit she almost did when their mom texted.
Coming home now.
“Oh shit, your mom’s coming home. Oh. double shit. By that, she means she’s here.”
Colette opened the door.
It was well past ten. After the night Colette had, she hoped the boys would be fast asleep in their beds. She hoped the end to this terrible evening could have been as easy as throwing some money at this girl and taking her own sorry ass to bed. But no. The boys were wide awake and riled up, watching a slasher that must have been at least PG-13, if not worse. They weren’t even ten years old yet. Useless babysitter.
“Go. To. Bed.”
The boys didn’t need telling twice.
It took everything in her not to erupt with rage at the child of her only friend standing in front of her. “Ugh, if I didn’t want to make a stink with your mother.”
“But you’re gonna pay me still, right?” Gabby shrugged. “I think you still need to pay me.”
———
Colette paid the useless babysitter, resolute in her mind that she would never hire that girl again. She settled the boys herself, their heads filled with radical ideas of monsters and explosives, and they would surely have nightmares tonight. They didn’t want to brush their teeth, and she wasn’t going to fight them about it tonight.
Infuriated and unsatisfied all around, she flopped onto her bed with all her clothes and shoes still on. Maybe she would never date again. It didn’t seem worth the trouble.
She didn’t like to feel her feelings, and there were far too many of them right now. Shame, regret, fury, disappointment, humiliation, jealousy… She could go on, but it was only making her feel worse.
She replayed the night, trying to figure out where it went so horribly wrong. She couldn’t even get herself laid. She had assumed that part would be easy enough. Weren’t men usually begging for it? How had she found the most proper man on the planet on her first try?
Well, Jordan probably didn’t know what to do with a tit when she first met him, either. They were practically kids. But Colette didn’t have it in her to put another ten years of work into teaching another man what she liked, so what was the alternative? Stay disappointed? Forever?
Or learn to love her vibrator.
He could leave her, but her memories were hers to keep. She slipped out of her skirt and reached for her nightstand.
Jordan was tall, with long limbs that could reach for days. He was generously sized for a good, satisfying fill. He had strength and stamina. He had rhythm, expert rock and thrust. He could go hard and last long. He could go slow when she asked for it, too. Pull my hair, grab my tits, harder, faster—wait—now go!
And who do you think taught him to do what he does with his tongue, bitch?
Probably best of all, for a time, he was willing (or at least endured) being told exactly what to do and how to do it, and he didn’t make too much of a stink about it. Until he finally did make a stink about it.
This was the hardest truth she would ever have to tell herself. It was possible that Jordan had been her perfect lover.
Oops. Hindsight is a bitch?
God, this night sucked so hard. She felt as numb between her legs as she felt in her heart. She turned off the stupid vibe and threw it across the room. It hit the wall and fell into a pile of laundry.
Someone else was fucking him now—the camper skank had a name, he had told her, but the name slipped in and straight out of her mind. Did she want to know it? Did it matter? Would the tramp even stick around?
What if she did? Colette had never given much thought to the idea of another woman coming into their lives and sticking around, but, oh, that could happen now. She’d want to meet the boys. Jesus, she might even want to be a stepmother.
Hell would freeze over before Colette would share her boys with another woman. Hell would freeze solid.
It turned out that reliving these memories wasn’t a turn-on at all. Colette hadn’t been fucked tonight, but this night could go fuck itself. Colette was done.
She undressed and put her pajamas on. She didn’t even wash the makeup off her face. She would just go to sleep, certain already that she would be nursing a hangover along with her shame in the morning.
gameplay, outtakes, and notes:
- @ethicaltreatmentofcowplants for the refresh of Club Calico in Brindleton Bay
- Pandora Nightclub by schnuck01
I can't imagine what kind of man would be with her. Only someone who wants no permanent commitment I assume.
ReplyDeleteYou will feel very validated by what happens to her in the third act of this chapter, because I think you're pretty spot on! 😁 But I hope it will become clear through this and the following chapters, that Colette has no business trying to pursue a permanent relationship until she takes a hard look at herself and thinks about some things. Not saying she has to change 180 and become a gentle little lamb, but her cruelty has consequences, and she might want to think about that.
DeleteThank you for reading! I will have some time next week to get parts 2 & 3 up here. End of school year has me swamped! 😵💫
Can't Wait for more. Colette´s story arch is different because she is different and Im enjoying it.
Delete