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Neighbor… was that the word for whoring tramp nowadays?

Gena Showalter

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Gena Showalter
Age: 49
Born: 1975
Born: January 1
Author
Novelist
Writer
Oklahoma
United States
Whoring
Tramp
Tramps
Nowadays
Neighbor
Word

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As teenagers, Marcus had been the muscle and Jake the brains. Marcus had beat up the kids who'd made fun of skinny Jake Jake had convinced teachers not to punish him. Since then, Marcus had grown a brain (kind of) and Jake had developed muscles. But habits die hard.
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Yep, that's me. I know. I know. You're humbled I'm here, feel like throwing rose petals at my feet, blah, blah, blah. No need, though. Just try and think of me as a normal guy -William
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But we all must be true to our own nature. Acting as anyone other than yourself merely brings you pain and makes you appear ashamed of who and what you are. Others will feed off that shame, and soon it will be all that you are.
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You are mine, woman, and I am yours. Until you, my life was desolate. I existed, but I didn't truly live. Now I live, even in my death.
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Everyone at school seems to go by a nickname. Kat, Frosty, Bronx, Boo Bear, Jelly Bean, Freckles.
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He’d pleasured Hera and a few thousand others, and when Hera learned about those thousand others…heads had rolled.
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I cast a glance in my new admirer's direction. You may call me Your Highness, I said. Or Empress Beauty. He chuckled. I wasn't kidding.
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He was royalty. So what? Everyone had a flaw.
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I looked around, counting the competition. Sixteen. To win, all I had to do was incapacitate each one, place my hand over their hearts and turn my palm into a flame. Easy. Yeah right.
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He was gorgeous, and I absolutely, no question, had to be drooling. After a quick and hopefully stealthy check – big show, I wasn’t!- I found myself wonder what color his eyes were. Brown maybe. Or even hazel. Either way…wow, just wow. Deer? Headlights? Hi, I’m Ali.
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I cannot kill him, she muttered to herself. I cannot kill him. I promised Bianka I'd stop at ten bodies a day, and I've already surpassed my quota for the fifth day in a row. I cannot kill him.
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People stared. Maybe because they were giants compared to everyone else, both in height and muscle mass. Maybe because of the telltale bulge of weapons at their waist. Or maybe because William opened a bag of Doritos and ate while he shopped. Hard to tell.
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Paris, the FedEx deliveryman of Pleasure and Fatality.
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I am so glad we met at an undisclosed location over the summer.
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Do you think it takes true pain to experience true pleasure?
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Strider: Red hots dude. He'd ruin anything for a mouthful of those. Now pull over. William: Gummy Bears. You should have said so.
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There was something so best-musical-ever when people screamed and begged for mercy, and she could listen to a good musical all day.
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Don't kill the messenger, but I'm think you should change your dating profil to balding. -- Paris to William
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