Social Sway by Anita Hotty - WordPress.com

cummer sixOh, my sweet Christina. Muddied pigtails at age seven; batteredPollyanna in hand (my mischievous monster – her favorite companion,Pollyanna). I remembered her giggles, telling me how she pushedJohnny in a mud puddle. Then to the struggling actress, waitress,two-time divorcée (in my mind, they were always his fault for mybaby could do no wrong). O, My sweet Christina just yesterday. Mydead Christina today.He drove. I listened. I slurred internally, Ask questions and show interestin answers: reminder to self – Check. Check.Oh, Christina. Save me Christina, begged my plea as I turned to thereflection of my darkened droops. I wanted to let them all out, butchose to light another cigarette. “Mind?” I asked as though I cared.He buzzed the car faster with a rev of immaturity. I have had my shareof children bad asses but they never cease to amaze me. I robbed mypurse and pulled out Mickey Jack, turning my head for a little tip ofcock back. His rev was an elderly wisdom long rehearsed. I dronedaway an empty gulp. My cheeks aged gravitational force. I hated thetense of my throat and the gut of my pain.Sex would be good for me, I wilted as the whiz of city life throbbed itspound at my sculled hollow. Sex ‘n’ brains were a secret of minealthough my finger gems wheeled them in every time. Inheritancehad its privileges. Charge card my Norm call redial, buzzed static onendless end.My darling Christina traited assertion. I grew to respect but nevermeasured up to my adoration for her.The drunken slosh secretly sipping choked aged lungs and horkedinto my own beverage. Don’t ask me how.The Computer God flexed his muscle and flashed me his RoxberryBillion brights. He was a non-smoker. My miserable mind zoned itsreaction as I secretly longed to blow my foul odor in his face. But mybitter age still controlled my envy. I hated my eyes on his genitalia.But I placed my wrinkled frailty there.His castle was opened with gates as he silently sneaked his boastfulengine onto the grounds. “Where are we?” I was thankful for thereminder of wealth to appease my patience. His habitat was a mansionof arousal pulsating a flashing red; Caution: Dirty Crossing.MUFF 120