Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78961 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 395(@200wpm)___ 316(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I won’t be all creative or anything.
Nope.
I’m simply going to bludgeon the shit out of the fucker in there then haul their ass out of the gym. Dump the fucker outside and head on my way to pussy.
Fuck, I so need to see some pussy tonight, I think to myself, especially after dealing with this shit.
Opening the locker room door, I walk as I quietly can towards the showers.
Passing the lockers, I see some old bleach-spotted pants on the floor. Shit. Nasty motherfucker.
Heading to the shower, I pause at each private berth.
My breath wants to come out harshly as I try my best to keep quiet. I so don’t want to walk in on some guy wanking his purple-headed yogurt slinger.
I get to the shower that has the hot steam pouring out of it and I let out a mental sigh. Fucker didn’t even close the privacy curtain.
He just wants to traumatize me, I know it.
Lifting the mop stick above my head in the fashion known around the world as the—I am going to whap the fuck out of somebody’s head pose—I turn the corner quickly.
Well, fuck me. No, no, no! Not fuck me… but well… no… bad!
Shit, shit, shit.
Sitting on the floor of the shower, slumped against the wall, is Christy, one of Chase’s students.
She is completely naked.
Good fucking lord those tits are the fucking thing of dreams. The sleek body, the tight stomach… Those fucking strong ass thighs… Long legs all wet and glistening.
Shit. Bad!
Her face is the only thing keeping my cock from standing up so damn straight I would be able to hammer nails with it.
Her eyes are closed and her delicate mouth is letting out those quiet, painful sobs. She looks so damn broken at the moment that my stomach falls to my feet.
Slowly lowering the mop, I take a quiet step back, then another.
Fuck, this is even worse than a bum. At least with the bum I could have done something productive. What the fuck are you supposed to do with a crying teenage girl who is butt-fucking naked?
Easing myself out of the locker room, I slump up against the wall, outside the door.
Shit.
Wiping my hand across my face, I’m somewhat surprised when I see it comes back wet from sweat. Even more surprised when I realize my whole body is sweating.
Shit. I’ve never had a situation like this. Maybe I need to call Avery… who will in turn tell Chase… and double fucking shit, I just looked at Christy while she was so damn sexy naked.
But the crying… my dick is so confused he just lies down like a miserable puppy.
Fuck.
First thing I do is turn on a light. Then I take a chair from the many surrounding the gym so I can sit next to the locker room. It gives me a direct view of the locker room, and it will let her see me as soon as she comes out. No need to scare her.
I sit here, staring alternately at my phone and then the door. Christoph calls but I don’t bother to pick it up.
Fuck, I wanted to see pussy tonight, and I guess I kinda did. Shit!
The door finally pulls open and there, standing in a baggy pair of jeans and an old sweatshirt with her wet hair pulled up into a ponytail is Christy.
She looks absolutely beautiful standing there for the first few moments. She’s shed the agony she must have been feeling in the shower.
Standing before me, she looks like a blonde Valkyrie from the old Viking tales. Tall, blonde and impossibly beautiful. As beautiful as they were fierce.
Then that is all gone in an instant. Her shoulders hunch down and she looks so much more like the wounded animal I saw in the shower.
Deep blue eyes stare into mine with confusion and she asks, “Alex?”
“What the fuck are you doing here?” comes out of my mouth before I even comprehend it.
Mister Smooth, ladies and gentlemen… I’ll be here all week.
Chapter Three
Christy
I hate crying, I seriously do. I don’t like feeling weak or feeling pathetic, but there was definitely something therapeutic about getting it all out in the shower. Like I’ve purged an emotional poison and can move on from it.
Turning off the shower, I force myself to focus. I’ve got a game plan. I’ll be okay. I know I can do this.
I have some money, enough to put a roof over my head for the weekend. What Travis did hasn’t changed any of my plans…
Don’t even think about it.
I’m going to put all that shit in the past and just move on from it.
Getting my own place is going to take a lot of hard work. I’ll probably have to pick up a second job, but I’ll survive. I’ll take care of myself and I’ll be better for it.