How to Hit Rock Bottom:
These aren't my characters, and I tried not to go into location detail because as an Aussie that's hard work when you have never been fortunate enough to leave the country. However the Character names may belong to someone else but the story is my own. I am mostly interested in being a Beta for the far more talented writers out there and as the requirements to do that are that I need 6,000 words, I had to put my pen to paper and write something. This is my first ever story, I avoid the creative writing classes at Uni, in favour of editing, publishing and literature. Please be kind, I smashed it out in a very short space of time, I have not given it to anyone else to Beta as I don't expect it to be read and it is hard to pick up your own mistakes. If people enjoy the story I may continue it but only if there is a demand for more. Anyway happy reading if you choose, I am off to go and read some more of the amazing stories on here.
Sometimes, the only way out of a bad situation is to hit rock bottom and then climb out. My name is Stephanie Plum, this is my story. I remember that even in childhood my mum was never on my level, I was always doing the wrong thing; she wanted to cage me while I was desperate to fly. I love my dad; he has always understood my somewhat wacky thought process. I think my mum resents that, actually these days I think she resents everything, it's hard to look at her and see the beautiful girl that married my dad, the woman she is now is bitter, twisted and unable to say a kind word. My sister Valerie is a carbon copy of my mother, she becomes more self-centred and spoilt every day, Valerie never gets in trouble, and she is utterly predictable.
I know why my Dad left, I really do, but I don't know why he had to leave me behind, I was seventeen and finishing school, I was naïve and knew next to nothing of the real world, but if you had asked me then, I knew it all. I started sneaking out to avoid their fighting, right out the bathroom window; I still don't think they know about that. I had a friend from my part time job at Cluck in a Bucket who lived around the corner, I would go to his place to fool around, nothing too serious just a bit of making out, until the day he took my virginity and told everyone about it, I guess that's the point where I knew that sex didn't equal love, but having sex could make you feel wanted, even if it was for the wrong reasons. Anyway my dad left and I tried to act tough, like I didn't care but the reality was I really did, on the inside I was dying and my 'friends' couldn't even see it.
By the time final exams came around at the end of the year, I was so numb I couldn't feel anything, I wasn't sad, I wasn't happy I just existed. I don't know what I was thinking at the time, I know it wasn't a cry for help but a serious attempt to feel something or end it. After yet another fight with my mum, I raided the medicine cupboard and took box after box of its contents, then went to work. By the time I got to work, the world was becoming a little hazy, I couldn't focus and was beginning to feel really tired, eventually I collapsed and my friend called for an ambulance, I took one really long trip to the hospital and spent a night throwing my guts up, my mother showed up for ten minutes to play the poor me card, but I guess that's better than them not showing up at all. The hospital released me the next day under the external supervision of an adolescent psychologist.
In the weeks after I was released, I slept with three other boys from work to fill the void; one of them was even my friends, ex-boyfriend, I had become an expert at having sex in a car so that the handbrake wasn't in the way. It turns out the trick is to just lay the front passenger seat back and climb on top of them. I don't think I was even aware of the reputation I was developing. One of those boys, Dickie Orr was a real charmer, he could talk his way into your pants and have you thinking he cared, I was in a sick and twisted kind of love with Dickie, I knew it wasn't a relationship, but yet whenever I would begin to break free, he would reel me back in with some sugar coated bullshit, and I would go back to letting him fuck my brains out and leave, somewhere along the way, he started to ask to borrow money, then a little bit more and then not long after that I was blindly handing my hard earned money over, I should also point out by this point the Dick had started to work as a lawyer while I was still at the Cluck in a Bucket.
Having turned eighteen, I was newly exposed to the exciting world of drinking and clubbing, and boy did I embrace it, I learnt to shake my ass up on that stage, how wearing minimal clothing and flirting with the right boys could get you free drinks and a cab home later. I was partying Wednesday through Saturday. I dropped out of school and got a job at a gas station, and started to hang around at my local football club, well I had never had attention off such good looking boys and it didn't take long for to end up being their personal taxi, ATM and booty call, I was regularly fucking at least 3 of those boys and on more than one occasion I had two of them in my bed at once. In between being with the footy boys, there was a long list of sexy hook ups from clubs and pubs whose names and faces have long since faded. I thought I was just doing things like a boy was, but the reality was I just needed to be wanted and I didn't care who wanted me as long as someone was wanting me and showing it. The footy boys would call me in the middle of the night to pick them up and drive them home, or invite me out with them because they knew I would buy the drinks and then if they didn't find other hook ups they knew they could get in my pants. Some sick part of my brain twisted these relationships in to something I considered a friendship and now looking back I know I wouldn't spit on those boys if they were on fire.
It was before Christmas the year of my eighteenth, that I realised, hang on why am I paying them money, I never get it back, It was like paying for sex, feeling like shit and not caring I decided that, Fuck it, if you can't beat them join them, I rang an escort agency and started working as a Ho that night. In my first night I made enough to cover my first weeks rent, a pack of smokes and a whole new outfit, I didn't even care how I got it, I figured I was out there having sex anyway why not get something from them for once. The money became so easy that I gave up my day job, cut down my partying to two nights a week and fucked as many faceless strangers as I could, I used the name Lily, it was the easiest thing to come up with on the spot as my interview had turned into a job before I knew what was happening. I made friends with a loved up girl name Lula, she was eccentric and over the top and wore clothes that were far too small for my slightly tubby frame let alone her overly curvy one, but somehow she squashed it all into those bright outfits. She looked after me and kept me safe from the addicts in the brothel. It wasn't long until my new found best friend and I were out partying together, something that our boss Ramirez wasn't too happy about it, but being the allure of acting our age and having sex with boys we wanted to while high on ecstasy was just too much for us in comparison to having some disgusting man who wanted to stick his cock in your bum, (I still don't do butt stuff).
The party scene was pumping, I remember we booked a hotel in the city one night, dropped a pill each and went out flying and as the song flaunt it says 'I'll make the base line nice and deep for all you freaks on disco treats…" The feeling we got from the ecstasy was amazing because instead of numb we tingled with desire, everything felt good, the beat of the music reverberated in our brains and flowed to our feet that just couldn't sit still, and kissing while on the ride was amazing, it made your knees shake and your doodah burn with desire, the passion was so intense that every fibre of your being felt alive, it was like being electrocuted but in an incredibly sensuous and pleasant way.
Time flew by that first twelve months of hooking, but by the time my nineteenth was nearing the game was getting old, Ramirez was scaring me, we were pretty sure he was following us sometimes too, Lula mentioned seeing a red beemer drive past her place and I know it drove past mine a lot. He also seemed to know what we had been up to and I knew we hadn't told him that's what we had done that day. I was getting scared but unable to stay with another job because I was addicted to the easy cash I transferred to another brother with a softer pimp. It didn't change how I felt, the high was over and coming down was a reality, every job felt like rape and I started throwing introductions. I was ready to face the real world finally.
I met Morelli when I went to a friend from the new jobs house, a typical dumb in a trailer park with more welfare recipients living there then there were beds, to sleep on, I thought they were stoned. Morelli was gorgeous and he knew who I was, I was into him the second I laid eyes on him, we all hung out there for the night watching movies, I remember reaching back to rub my shoulder because it was sore and having Morelli's hand move my hand away and replace it with his, where he massaged my shoulders for hours before he kissed me and I was hooked the moment he wouldn't have sex with me. I thought I had met someone who could love me for who I was, damaged past and all. We had only been together a few weeks when he took me away to meet his mum and it wasn't long before we got a place of our own to rent. At first he was charming and attentive and I thought 'yep he's the one!' By the time the Christmas decorations went up in the stores things had begun to change.
The first time it happened I thought it was odd, he picked an argument with me in a mall so that he could storm off, but he came back fifteen minutes later with gift wrapped chocolates, and said that yelling at me was the only way he could think of to sneak off and get them, I forgave him and didn't tell him that I actually hated dark chocolate. The second time it happened was while Christmas shopping and I was so humiliated by his yelling at me that I just wanted the ground to open up and swallow me. We had a few little arguments in there but nothing too serious; I just thought that it was normal behaviour from a couple. We had a beautiful Christmas away together with some of his family. If only I had known things were going to deteriorate so fast from that point.
I think the first time I really saw him go off was new year's, it was just drinking at home and obviously not good enough for him so he was yelling out in the street, I can't remember the exact moment that things got really bad. Maybe it was because of both of us not working, even though I went from job to job trying to keep a roof over our heads, while he sat on the couch getting high with my old friends from school. I was still blindly in love with him and was delighted to be able to buy him a puppy for his birthday. However the fights were getting worse and he was calling me a slut and a cunt and every other name under the sun, he would be so close to my face I could see if he had plaque on his teeth. I would be terrified by him yelling in my face like this but I guess things were still good more than bad at that point.
In June I started to feel a little funny in the tummy, I thought it was nothing and the next week I was throwing up so I put it down to nothing more than the start of Gastro but as the vomiting continued I had to face reality and take a pregnancy test, I bargained with God please only have two lines if Morelli would stand by me. It took me weeks to work up the courage to tell Morelli but eventually he himself suggested I take a test because I was still sick. I was so grateful to have an opportunity to take a test and not have to tell him I already knew. I hoped he would be happy as I was attached to the idea of a baby. He was devastated, he got mad and told me that 'the baby has to go, we can't support it, I don't want it, if you keep it I am out of here.' I was torn between my love for Morelli and my yearning to have this baby, about a month later he rang his mum and she came right over. She cornered me a week later and said she was paying for an abortion and that was that. If I wanted to keep Morelli I had to have the procedure.
In the mean time we were being evicted for being in arrears for the rent and starving because was there was no income coming in. Morelli stole what we needed from the local supermarket. He got caught once and then we had to walk half an hour to steal from the next closest store. I don't know how we survived at all those nights. Falling pregnant was the beginning of the end even though we were less than one year into our three year relationship. Morelli was always fighting with the next door neighbours who called the cops one night because they could hear my screaming as Morelli and Mooner were punching the crap out of each other, I have known Mooner my whole life and seeing Morelli push me down and spit on me when I was pregnant was the last straw. The cops came and I was distraught I told the police I tripped and Morelli swore things would get better, he loved me. We decided that we would move to Point Pleasant and have a fresh start where I could have the abortion (I was still fighting to convince Morelli to keep it) and he could quit smoking weed and find a job.
I wish I could say I won the battle and kept my baby but no, the day after my twentieth birthday they drove me to a clinic. Morelli and his mother sat in the room so I couldn't chicken out. The nurse asked questions, they answered I nodded begging her silently to see I didn't want to do it and make them stop but no the next thing I knew I was being given a tablet and half an hour later I was experiencing terrible cramps and being wheeled off for them to suck out the baby like it was a piece of garbage that meant nothing, I had tears streaming down my face and the truth set in, Morelli's mother was right, our relationship was over I would never forgive them or myself. The day after surgery Morelli had a friend travel from the Burg so they could get high and go fishing at the beach, we fought that night, furious I said I was leaving him and he grabbed me by the hair and threw me into a wall, he wrapped his hands around my throat and picked me up against the wall and told me I was never going to leave him or he'd tell the world what I had done. I couldn't believe his friend did nothing; he just watched it happen and then walked out of the room, all though they haven't spoken since that day either.
The pattern of abuse continued for another thirteen months on and off with me hating him more and more and the violence escalating and becoming more frequent. I had nowhere to go, I was isolated, not close to my family and he threated to kill himself or tell everyone the truth if I left. I think I made it worse because I fought back sometimes like the time I threw an ashtray at him and it broke a window so he dragged me inside by the hair and threw me onto the bed where he punched my back repeatedly and then jumped on me and finally punched my head before the dog bit him on the leg and he started on her. It was around that point that sex became a chore and when I had to do it, I felt like I was being raped, his touch repulsed me.
I got a job the day after our three year anniversary, at the local pub. I should of known the trouble it would cause as Morelli was insanely jealous if I even served a man and smiled at them, one night he kicked out the windscreen calling me a slut and a whore and he may as well sell me because I was a shit fuck anyway. He went away to a funeral just before Christmas and I enjoyed my freedom by going to a party, I talked only to girls and didn't drink, in case he found out about the party, but it wasn't enough to save me from the fight when he did find out I had been to it. Christmas came and went and I needed to return the next day for work but that was a huge problem for Morelli as how could I be trusted. I went anyway and later told him to stay there but he came home anyway a few days later turning up at my work and yelling at me.
On New Years Eve, after spending it with his friends at the beach he told me he loved me and wanted to get married and have babies, we had sex and that was the end of the celebration, the next morning I felt different, I know that your not supposed to feel different that early but I did, I knew I was carrying another baby. I was determined to keep this one and I was very diligent and attentive towards Morelli for the next few weeks so that he didn't hurt me, I asked him to take me to the doctors a few weeks later so they could do an ultrasound on my ovaries, I was just desperate to have a doctor present when he found out I was pregnant again. He was so mad but in the car I convinced him to wait until twelve weeks before we got rid of it because 'why pay money for an abortion, if I lose the baby it will be free.' it was the safest thing I could think of to say that would appease him. When the twelve week mark came and he didn't say anything I didn't mention it, thankful that he was too stoned and too busy playing video games to notice how long it had been since the appointment, I was sixteen weeks before he mentioned it again, thank god I didn't show early, I had begun to feel little flutters in my tummy that I was sure was the baby moving and it made me so sure that I was doing the right thing by keeping was I suspected was a baby boy. When he did mention it, I said it wasn't negotiable I was keeping my baby and he could stay or go I didn't care.
Morelli stayed, but complained I was ruining his life every day and he yelled a lot and spat but thankfully that was it for a while. At the twenty week scan he showed a tiny spark of interest and asked 'is that balls? That wasn't the baby's balls but he did indeed have balls as Morelli put it. I honestly thought it would change things and I told my mum, who was angry that I hadn't told her until twenty weeks, but very excited about becoming a grandma, she wanted to know when we would get married, so that she could plan everything and what would we call the baby. Morelli and I chose the name Hunter, it wasn't top 100 but wasn't uncommon either. He would go from okay with it to freaking out and I never knew which one Morelli I would wake up with in the morning. I was adamant that he quit smoking drugs if he stayed as I was not having a bar of it in a house with my baby. He agreed to quit smoking, but the withdrawals left me in a world of trouble.
If he had mood swings before they were nothing on now, he would get so angry and chase me through the house and scream horrible things, he was smashing up furniture and punching walls, until he finally decided to get angry at his mum instead of me and at 28weeks told his mum. I wish she never knew, interfering cow, was at our house the next day telling us the name was a horrible choice, and how she would be in my delivery room because it wasn't about me, she was going to be there for Morelli, and the cherry on the cake, we would move into her house after the baby was born. My blood pressure skyrocketed from the low side of normal that it always is into the higher side of normal within a fortnight and my OB/GYN was concerned. I was ordered to relax and avoid the stressor, she told me to ring my mother in law and tell her, she was not coming in to the room, I would advise when she could visit, I would breastfeed if I chose to and I would be parenting the way I wanted and that included choosing a name. My blood pressure calmed back down again and the the pregnancy continued. I was lucky to have a text book pregnancy I had gained only the minimum weight, felt fine with only a little morning sickness early on. As the time got closer Morelli became affectionate, rubbing my belly and telling everyone it was a son. I really believed things would be good.
At 8months Morelli and I had a huge fight, I didn't want to have sex, I was feeling heavy and sore and he got so angry that he threw me up against a wall and put his hand threw the wall next to my ear, and spat in my face. I was so scared for my unborn baby I dropped to the ground and curled up into a ball with my arms protecting my bump. That was the last time he physically hurt me. At 38 weeks I was walking and my ankle just went crack and gave way, I thought it was broken it hurt so bad, Morelli didn't even want to take me to the hospital until I said I would call an ambulance then. The nurse wasn't too worried just bandaged it and told me to keep off it as she couldn't do an x-ray on it while I was pregnant. Morelli gloated the whole way home that it was a pointless trip. I prayed to God to make me stronger, Strong enough to protect my boy from becoming his father.
40weeks came and went and I was nearing my deadline for induction at 42weeks. I put on a further 10kilos in that time and had swelled up like a balloon. The night before my induction I went to sleep late, nervous about my impending labour, at 7am I woke in pain, but that wasn't unusual, I thought it was just a pressure thing, who am I kidding I was in total denial, I went to the toilet and climbed back into bed right as it happened again then again five minutes later, I began to realise I couldn't deny that this was the start of labour, I told a sleeping Morelli who just mumbled and went back to sleep, I tried to lay back down but I couldn't get comfortable, I didn't want to stand but I didn't want to lay down either. I went for a shower as it's supposed to help with the pain, but standing in the shower trying to focus on my breathing and get through the contraction, I knew it was going to happen fast as they were already mostly 5mins apart. An hour passed and I rang the hospital, the midwife talked to me for a little bit and said it sounded like I would be a while and ring her back when it got closer together or hurt too much. I lasted another hour before the contractions got so tight I couldn't focus on anything while they were happening I rang her back and just said help, she told me to come right in.
Morelli refused to get out of bed until I stood there and screamed at him to get the fuck up, before I had a baby in the bedroom, he got up and went for a shower and then attempted to make breakfast, I say attempted to make because the second I realised that's what he was doing I went mental at him and he realised it was happening. We got to the hospital which was 15mins away nearly two hours after the midwife told me to come in. After being examined the midwife said I was still only 2cms dilated and it would be about twelve hours before I was ready, Morelli demanded that we go home and I refused, he walked out to get some food and have a smoke by the time the nurse returned with the doctor an hour later my contractions were about a minute apart and I was clearly not coping, they decided to relocate me to a delivery room, check my progress and break my waters if they could.
The progress check revealed I had gone 2cms in the hour and my waters were broken and they started the timer on my layby, they said it was going too fast for an epidural and I could have the Gas if I liked but, it made me feel nauseous and I wanted to go to the toilet. I got to the bathroom but couldn't go and they assured me I didn't need to poo, it was just the pressure from the baby and to hop up on the bed, time seemed to move so slowly and yet so fast as I couldn't get a break between the contractions, they were coming hard and fast a minute on and a minute off a check half an hour after my waters were broken revealed that I was now 6cms dilated she checked again after the next contraction only to reveal that I had dilated a further 2cms with contraction, I couldn't contain my screams I hurt so bad as it was and Morelli just stood there unsure of what to do, an hour after my waters broke, the doctor told me I could start pushing.
I tried so hard to work with the pain but the contractions were only a minute long and I spent the first half of it trying to stop the screaming to work with my body and not fight the feeling that something was trying to rip its way out of vagina, I was passing out between contractions and when I did manage to stay awake between them I begged for drugs or to die, I cursed eve and her eating a stupid apple, an analogy my poor midwife had to explain to the confused doctor, at some point Morelli disappeared for a cigarette, I can't believe he didn't think I would notice. After an hour of pushing I was exhausted, the baby was still in there and I had nothing left, I simply whimpered to my nurse and quietly said please, Realising that there was no way I was getting that baby out on my own and both of us surviving the nurse and doctor discussed options, the doctor said it was too late for an emergency caesarean, she would lose one or both of us if she had to wait for us to be prepped and for the other OB/GYN to come in and do it. She also said the baby was too far down the birth canal and she would have a hard time pulling him out, She gave the order to another nurse to put everything on stand by and attempted a vacuum extraction, with a nurse closely monitoring the baby's heart beat she told me to push with everything I had, the first push we got closer but not far enough and the monitors told us babies heart rate had dropped below 70bpm. The doctor told me I had to get him out with the next push and hearing that my baby was in danger I summoned every ounce of strength I had left and forced my mind to work with my baby, the pressure and burning sensation was so intense as his head came out but once his head had passed through the burning relaxed a bit, still felt weird to have a head coming out of your vagina, the next push was enough to help the doctor get his body out and I was rewarded with a beautiful baby boy being placed on my chest. The doctor pulled on the cord with the next few contractions and helped the placenta to come out once it did, Morelli cut the cord and I handed him the baby, I hadn't really connected that the thing that had just caused me so much pain was the baby I had loved for nine months. I needed a lot of stitched and an IV as they weren't sure if I was haemorrhaging or had just torn really badly internally.
My stitches were barely in place before Morelli's mother walked into the delivery room, the asshole had rung her while I was getting in the car. I had just put Hunter to the breast for the first time and he was taking to it like he had done it a thousand times before. As soon as I was done the nurse came to give him his needles and take his measurements, Morelli and his mother blocked him from my view but the nurse told me he was nine pound six ounces of beautiful boy with hair that looked black and my blue eyes. Morelli's mother snatched him up and I didn't get to hold my baby for hours after that, I still feel that she took something from me and I will never forgive her as long as I live, they were my moments to enjoy not hers. After being moved to our room, I text a friend who came to visit when Morelli and his mother told her to leave so I could get my rest I told her that she was right and they should all go so I could rest, she stormed out in a huff and Morelli followed right after, he only said goodbye to the baby. I finally got to just look at my little man, see what I had made and as his hand clasped around my finger I felt my whole heart fill with love.
I refused to leave the hospital until Morelli got rid of his mother and luckily that only took that day and she left on the third day as I was itching to get out of the prison cell that was out hospital room, I wanted to use my own shower and I really wanted to get home to toilet paper that wasn't so rough it felt like sandpaper on my tender girl parts, even though I could barely walk as the smallest of movements in my lower body would pull on my stitches I needed to be home. When we got home Bob was so good with Hunter, so very gentle and better than any baby monitor could be. My beautiful baby boy rewarded us with a smile at four days old and it was not wind, the smile came from his eyes as well as his mouth.
Time passed quickly then and I was still on a high, not fazed by the night wake ups but there was only two or three of those anyway but he didn't sleep much during the day and that was stressful until a doctor told me, he might not need the same amount of hours as every other baby. Morelli and I moved along great, we weren't arguing at all, he helped with Hunter for the first few weeks. Then his mother came to visit again. She and Morelli decided that we would indeed move in with her and assured me we would have our own space free from her interference, I told them I didn't want to move but she insisted and said that Morelli needed to move to get work. So my life was unwilling picked up and moved into the Morelli house and let me tell you there was not enough space in that house at all. Morelli soon began to yell at me for not interacting in the house and that I couldn't keep Hunter from his mother. Things had changed since having Hunter and I no longer stayed quiet, I told him I didn't want to live there and I wasn't going to go and hang out there while they smoked as I would be sitting inside and they would be out so it was better to stay in my room and do what I wanted and I could keep Hunter from a crazy lady who gives him dirty toys to suck on that have loose buttons and that until she could respect boundaries then she was only going to have limited access to him. He didn't care that she told me I was breastfeeding wrong, or putting him to sleep wrong, too rough with him, didn't let him lay on the floor of the bath so he could learn not to put his head into the water, he only saw that I was against his mother.
Finally I came home one day and they cornered me and both started on me, I was ungrateful and spoilt, Hunter was theirs too and they got to say how he would be parented, I needed to make sure dinner was cooked before I stuffed around with Hunter, Morelli must have clean clothes and as much sex as he demands. I snapped and said there was nothing wrong with Morelli's two hands and feet, he wasn't working so therefore perfectly capable of washing and cooking. I told her that she was a crazy bat who doesn't know how to mind her own business and her hippy ideas of alternative schooling, wooden toys and breastfeeding until he was five weren't going to happen and she could back the fuck off, then Morelli told me that I couldn't talk to her like that and that she was his family, I told him no Hunter and I are supposed to be your family, but not anymore. I stormed inside and packed a bag of things that Hunter would need.
That was the night I finally left, I would spend no more of my time, being hit, spat on, scared or verbally abused. I was not going to let Hunter think that I was a doormat and I certainly wouldn't accept that behaviour from him. I went to stay with a friend of my mums, someone Morelli had never met. He rang abusing me for a few days and forbade me to leave the state, I told him I had no choice, my mother lived in Miami and that was the only place I had to go. After seeking legal advice, a lawyer said yes I can leave, he will file to see you in court and the details will be dealt with then, she sent him a letter stating my intentions and I hopped on to a plane to the sunshine of Miami. I hoped that with the move I could make a new life for Hunter and me. That was early February and its now November, we haven't seen Morelli and he only ever contacts me to demand money out of me, he never asks after Hunter.
Hunter is now walking and actively seeking all sorts of mischief, he loves to climb and has worked out how to get into the child proof locks, and he also likes to help with the vacuuming but hates to sleep. It's just after his first birthday and he has only just begun to sleep through the night. His hair turned into light brown curls and he is a carbon copy of me, attitude and all. Hunter was worth every bruise and more.
As for me, well I am at university; its hard juggling being a mum with being a student, but it has been good for me to do something for myself. I am so much stronger than ever before and have surrounded myself with only happy healthy people who have their own independent lives. I even met a man, his name is Carlos, he is Cuban and in the Army and when he kisses me it heats up my whole body, it's like kissing when I was on ecstasy, except that I get to do it sober, he smells sensational and is always supportive and encouraging, he has his own things to do to, so he never cages me in and demands that I do things. I can sense him the second he gets close and oh his touch, I hate it when he kisses me goodbye it always leaves me wanting more. But Carlos is a story for tomorrow but I can promise you that I am not letting that man go anywhere!