Skilled Hands

Chapter 1

I slammed on the brake into the parking lot, took off my seatbelt and hurriedly searched around my bag trying to find some water.

I finally find the cold beverage, chugging what was left of it.

All this pent-up rage had me panting like a crazed dog all the way here.

Closing my eyes and leaning my head back against the seat, I took a few deep breaths to calm my fiery nerves.

I'd received a pocket call earlier from my boyfriend of seven fucking years to hear the harmonious sounds of screeching moans and wet slapping.

It was just great to hear my boyfriend moaning out someone else's name right after I'd gotten fired from my job.

So great.

My manager had yelled at me for 'dressing too sexual' at work, my clothes making me look like a slut and had customers apparently complaining about what they had to see.

I literally wore the same fucking uniform as the other staff.

Their sizes were too small, so obviously my tits were going to look like they were suffocating.

"Anna, you shouldn't be putting your waist on display in the workplace," I recall his squeaky voice reprimanding me for something that wasn't even my fault.

He said I moved my hips too much.

What in the shit?

All I did was walk? What was I supposed to do, fucking waddle?

Now I'm sitting in front of some massage clinic, barely remembering how I got here.

I ran my hands down my face and rub at my temples.

After a quick check in the mirror to make sure I didn't look like I was on the verge of a breakdown, which mind you I was, I reached a shaky hand to the car door and made my way to the clinic for a much-needed massage.