STARTED JAN 2023--
MATURE AND EXPLICIT CONTENT. Viewer Discretion is advised.
Priscilla Pearl Wolfe is a Pornstar.
Halen Elle used to be.
That is until the apathetically charming jackass with a back pocket full of guitar picks and skittles moves...
"And I just can't get my poor self together..." ♪ Etta James • Stormy Weather.
YOUR TABOO
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I kept the bloody keys to Paul's BMW tucked between my filthy Pornstar tits for the entire evening.
Through dinner, through cake, through presents, through drinks, and through a bedtime story with Poppy, I sat with them, riding a new high of gratification that I've never felt so intensely or closely before.
And it's all thanks to Halen.
I spent the entire night glued to his side just out of pure appreciation. Those keys felt like a part of Paul, severed off to me like a trophy for my troubles. And the knowledge and image of Halen sending a bleeding, pathetic Paul packing back to the city on foot, makes me smile.
I'm a firm believer in violence being the only answer for men like him. Men who take pride in hurting and abusing.
As peaceful as taking the high road can be, it is and will always be nothing compared to the satisfaction of someone getting what they well and truly deserve.
And Halen and I being the only ones to know, made it feel like our dirty little secret.
"Just a few more." Helen hands me another plate and I take it gently in my hands, wiping it dry with a white cloth.
Etta James plays quietly on the radio behind us in the dim kitchen while Suraj shares tea with Cordelia and Patrick at the table.
They whisper and giggle drunkenly about stories from Patrick's previous birthdays and about the gifts that Halen bought for him, one of which is a giant spinning penis hat that he hasn't taken off since he saw it.
Turns out Spencer's was the perfect place for Patrick. Cannabis printed socks and ties, space printed t-shirts, firecrackers, and a multitude of prank kits sent him soaring through the room with joy.
He lifted Halen up and shook his stiff as a board frame endlessly. Well, until Halen threatened to decapitate him, but...
That's just their father-son bonding, I've learned.
"Thank you for helping me, darling." Helen gives me a gentle side hug and I rest my head against hers, replying, "Oh, don't worry about it."
Footsteps sound and I flick my gaze toward the doorway, narrowing in tightly on Halen approaching in his long coat, holding my heels and purse. He slows down near the threshold and locks eyes with me, his nose pink from the cold and his perfectly combed peppered brown hair mussed from the gentle wind still knocking on the window.
He always looks so beautiful.
"The car is warmed up. We should head off before the roads ice up too much. Are you ready to go home now, Priscilla?"
