Aw. Poor dears.
If you missed me, you shoulda just SAID so. In your review. ((evil grin))
Well I can't quite pretend that I have a completed chapter here for you. I put it down to a lack of inspirational reviews.
Basically . . . You want this next chapter? Review and tell me so.
And trust me. You want it.
Also just so you know I do indeed accept bribes. Lol. Kidding. Sort of.
But hang on! Before ya'll go getting your panties in a knot, I'm not going to be totally unreasonable.
I'll inspire YOU a little first.
Because after all. My writing is a reciprocal kinda thing.
All the best stuff is. Lol.
Now I have some truly THRILLING stuff coming up for you.
Some of its a little naughty…..
'Yeah,' agreed another of the guys, talking directly to one of his mates now. This ones name was . . . Sam? Maybe? I don't really know. 'I think I like Melinda drunk too. '
'I think Melinda should sit the fuck down,' Scott instructed me frowning slightly.
Funny, I've never seen Scott serious.
Or maybe I've just never taken him seriously.
'You can sit here Melinda,' Rhys grinned, indicating to his lap.
'Face down?' I enquired politely.
They roared with laugher.
'Yeah . . .' Rhys drawled to his mates. 'She's gagging for it . . .'
The smoke from his cigarette danced around me, the scent heavy and disorientating . . .
Cool.
'Hey, feel like coming for a walk with me Melinda?' Rhys asked.
Good euphemism there Rhysie. By walk you mean sex in the pool shed, right?
Nevertheless . . .
I smiled at him, grabbing my bottle and sculling the rest of it back in one go. 'Sure!'
And of course Nick's there too . . .
I glanced up and found myself staring directly into the penetrating ice blue stare of Nick Slater. He stared openly at me, blatantly ignoring his slut, who had begun to kiss her way down his throat.
I shivered, and found myself unable to look away from Nick's intense stare.
What surprised me was that he wasn't actually looking all that shit hot. He had dark shadows under his eyes and heavy creases between his eyebrows.
Although that could have been because his slut had just sucked out one of his fillings or something.
I dunno.
I deliberately broke eye contact and turned back to Chad. 'Was it just me,' I said to Chad brightly, 'Or does Nick look just a little bit homicidal?'
A little suggestive as well . . .
'Oh FUKING HELL,' I said, exasperated at how SLOWLY he was moving.
So I grabbed him by the back of the neck and pulled his mouth to mine.
Felt weird.
Not BAD, but . . . weird.
Things got WEIRDER still as he slid his hands slid down my neck and over my shoulders and—and—
OUCH!
Ease up would you? They're not made of fucking PLAY-DOUGH.
And crazy, naturally . . .
I clapped my hands. 'Haha. Cool. You're in the pool!!' Then I started giggling. Because it RHYMED. DUH.
'You can shut the fuck up,' he growled in my direction.
'Who pissed in your cornflakes?' I challenged. 'And where's your SLUT?"
This was the first I'd seen him without HER oozing off him all night.
Bet she was off fucking his brother.
Wait. He doesn't have a brother.
Ok, his STEP-MUM then.
Although, I don't really know how that WORKS. Lesbian sex. I mean NEITHER PARTY HAS A PENIS! So what gives?
And some more crazy . . .
I was standing there, swinging over the gate and offering commentary when we were interrupted by an angry voice.
'OI! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU FUCKWADS' DOING?'
Shit! It's Scott! Hide Melinda, HIDE!!
I scrambled to my feet and tried to run.
The outcome of this action was enough to convince me that I might have been just that LITTLE bit totally and utterly fucked . . .
Problem was balance. It caught up to me in the end, as I knew it would.
You see, I really wasn't capable of standing without help.
Lots of help, actually.
I stumbled instantly and made it JUST through the pool gate before my balance got a little suss. I lurched forward, stumbling as my shoes slid on the wet grass . . .
To cut a long story short, I ended up head down ass up in the garden.
Dinky, right?
And some MORE . . .
Then he slung an arm around me and squeezed me into him. 'Come on. Let's get you a drink.'
'Yes,' I replied sarcastically, 'because alcohol has done such a bang up job of fixing the rest of the world's problems.'
Hey, you! Ethiopian orphan! Cheer up you don't need food! Here, have a drink. Or better yet, HERE, have some COCAINE.
Yeah, you like that . . .
And just when you thought I was done with the crazy, there is MORE . . .
"Hey, you wanna come over and see Rhys and them with me?' scott interrupted me.
I absentmindedly took another long swallow as I deliberated. 'Boys?' I asked, lowering the bottle and dragging a hand over my mouth.
Scott gave me a look that clearly conveyed his opinion on my mental health. "God you can be a freak sometimes Melinda,"
Boy; was he ever onto something there.
'Yeah, "Boys". Sort of like chicks, but with COCKS.'
But lets not forget the scary bits . . .
Instead he said: "Yeah . . . Guess you'll never know will you?"
What I'm REALLY proud of is that when he said this, instead of COLLAPSING or anything gay like that, I managed to put on a bored voice and drawl; 'I assume that's another one of your fun little death threats then?'
"Yes!"
. . Great. Just great. Do I get, like, some points or something for guessing right? Maybe a gold star?
No?
FUCK YOU THEN.
You know mate, even if you WEREN'T a fucked-in-the-head murdering rapist with sweat patches I STILL wouldn't like you.
Yeah. HOW YOU LIKE THEM COOKIES BITCH?? I'M NOT SCARDA YOU!! I'D TOTALLY SAY THIS ALL OUT LOUD!!
. . . But I just don't feel like it right now.
A few of them . . .
"When will you fucking learn," He snarled at me, all traces of smugness eradicated from his features. "When I tell you to do something, you fucking DO IT!!"
This last part was screamed in my face.
And the spit did NOT even feature on my top five list of most pressing problems right now.
YEAH. THAT'S HOW FUCKING SCREWED I WAS.
Keith looked me directly in the eyes and smiled gently as he slowly began to tighten his hold on my neck.
My eyes were huge, as my lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen . . .
But that's not it. Hell no. Those were just the scary bits. I also have some bone-chillingly DISTURBING bits too . . .
I was terrified.
Someone . . . someone help me . . .
He smiled at me and rotated his wrist behind his back. My eyes flew to his arm, watching his movements and wondering, without truly wanting to know, what he was holding.
I cringed, and lowered my head; incapable, literally incapable of looking this murderer in the eye.
I shivering as I felt his gaze on me.
I began to cry. And not quietly either. "Please . . ." I blubbered, still staring at my knees. "Please . . ."
He pretended to consider it. "Hmm . . . Nah."
I can't pretend I'm not scared of death. I really, REALLY am. But what scares me more than death . . . is pain.
And the only thing I could think of right then, was that movie, "The Bank Job" with that guy from "Transporter" in it. In it the baddies steal this guys down into a vault, and then torture him with a blow torch to get him to tell them where his friend is.
And—
And all I see in my mind was an image of me lying on this concrete floor with my—
With my skin all melted and pooling to the concrete floor.
I would be left here.
And my skin would cool and set on the . . . cold concrete . . .
"Look at me Melinda." He whispered.
I slowly raised my head and looked into the face of . . . .
And that's all you get.
Dun dun dun.
So. I think you know by now what to do.
Love and SMOOCHES!
The-decidedly-greedy Mariah