Colton: An Intersex Short Storry

Chapter 13

Chapter 13

Daisy POV

I wake up on the sofa, naked. My shredded dress and underwear were right next to the door, and I could feel my pussy beating. My eyes widened as I saw the book in front of me. I jumped directly to Chapter 5. Colton and I had sex. This time, when I read, it doesn't feel like I'm trekking up a mountain and writing a book, but rather serene. It seems like I was truly having sex with Colton. I really was. Or it may be Malik. I shook my head; I would never sleep with Malik knowing he was with some bitch.

I gathered up the tattered garments and carefully climbed the stairs to take a shower. It was probably ideal as I worked on the storyline I was creating without really remembering.

I wrapped the robe around my wet body as soon as I got out of the shower. I sat around my desk. The spills were all cleaned up, but the desk remained a mess. I had too much clutter and was too lazy to deal with it. I know I should be walking, but I'll have to wait another day. The sun was scorching. The air was blowing a lot of pollen. I was making up reasons for not walking.

I just didn't have the motivation, and now that I look at how long each chapter was, I'm not motivated to write.

I move over to the open Google tab. I check three tabs every day. My Amazon sale. My Amazon reviews and book rankings. Unlike me, Beth only had two novels and was manufacturing bags; the one-star rating was 3%, and everyone adored her. And that 3% was clearly me, creating a false Amazon account and complaining about how horrible the book was. The book wasn't horrible. She has a lovely plot. A great conclusion. Her sex scenes weren't overly repeated. The settings were excellent. Grammar is superb. Deceptive on point. There was just nothing to dislike.

She gave to the readers. But I didn't dislike her novels. I detest her. I commented on how much her husband's departure may have contributed to the book's bleakness.

And now that I was sitting in my old chair, my fingers were more driven to write another negative review under the user name "Raindrops." I must admit, after creating the 50th account, I was running out of names.

I made strange noises with my mouth as my mind raced through ideas for what to write. My fingers were delighted. I was pleased. No one was trying to damage Beth's life, so that became my responsibility.

I decided to check on my sales as I considered what I was going to evaluate.

"It's not horrible." I mumbled as I traced the mouse over the data, which said that since last night and now, I've made $150.

Sure, it wasn't like Beth, who probably made $5,000 or more each day from just one book. After all, she just tossed $75,000 to Mr. Keith. If I had money like that, I'd consider myself wealthy and swimming in it.

I cracked my delighted fingers and slid the mouse to the word review box to get started.

I started. It's a soothing bad habit that I'll never kick: speaking as I write.

"Bethany, precious, lovely Bethany, I've heard from her community that she's a nasty..." I scoffed. I can't write that since I used it two days ago. I am in need of something new. I need anything that will make it appear that I am a new reviewer. I couldn't be open.

"Hmm...What to write about?" I have a million things to say about her. From the bunions on her feet to her spouse sleeping with her help. Cry me a river and name me foolish, but I've said it before and will say it again: I despise Bethany and am envious of her. What happens when you despise someone and are envious of them? You wrecked their life. You let the cat out the bag.

"This book, "When Love Burns," is about two chefs who fall in love, yet they were already in love. There was no new chemistry between them, which might be due to the author's lack of understanding of the term "chemistry." I grinned and did a little joyful dance in my frail chair. I cracked my fingers again, bracing them for the lengthy writing session ahead. I know. I know. I should write the story. I should be playing detective to find out if Colt is genuine or simply an invader who was probably residing in my basement.

Wait! What if she is in my basement right now! Just waiting for me to leave so she could come up, paste herself wherever the book was, and sell me a story.

Mmm, if that's the case, she was quite intelligent.

I proceeded to write negative reviews. It was the only way I could feel fulfilled and complete for the day. It was a new interest. Writing negative evaluations with a maximum of twenty people viewing it and claiming it was helpful, but I doubt they care.

"Floral was nothing but a whore; she sleeps with Mateo, two cousins, and she has a threesome, which is much worse.

What's more, Floral dumped Mateo, moved to Mexico, and guess who she runs into? Mateo. He is not even cute. He has blue eyes and blonde hair, which is quite dull. Don't get me started on the sex. It's like two dogs fucked and were trapped. Overall, I would rate this book a 0. A big fat, dirty 0. Because, what kind of rubbish is this?"

I grinned as I prepared to close with the biggest banger of all time.

"I got the book. Read it three times." The book was so amazing that I reread it. "I read it so many times before realizing it was crap. Nothing but trash, like the white trash of the woman who wrote it. The worst part is that she's out here preaching about love when I read on a blog post that her husband of 7 years cheated, abandoned her, and fucked her assistant repeatedly."

I giggled. I wasn't finished yet. Let me cook.

"This book belongs in the garbage, as do its author. #killbethanythebitch."

I took care to reread it, correct a few typos, and press submit, but when I did, the message disappeared, and when I checked at the bottom of the screen, I saw the Internet was not connected.

Fuck! FUCK! FUCK!

I HAVE TO START ALL OVER AGAIN!