Claydel Vail Jenner is a 36 year old Kittitian woman who has lost her family in a tragic accident.
Coping with her lost she finds her self Fallen victim at the hands of her late husband's Mistress
and his work partner. Clay fled to the city of At...
I was beyond relieved when the session with Miss Camron was over. Two hours of some stranger trying to
penetrate my soul. Shit. I don't care if she is drop dead gorgeous. With her sultry eyes
and perfect smile. Damn! 'Come on Clay are you seriously thinking of her like that?' I question myself.
'No I am not, I am just saying she looks good that's all'. Running my hand
over my face trying to convince myself. 'I bet she one them rich stuck up type anyway.'
Taking a sip from my glass still deep in thought. The vodka sent shot up into my nostrils,
causing me to choke on the vodka I was swallowing. I Cough uncontrollably attracting
some unwanted attention.
Immediately grabbing some napkins from near by, I wipe away the mess I had just made on the counter.
The bartender just looks over at me wrinkling his nose. Still coughing a bit I shrug at him. Turning his back towards me, he walks over to another customer.
Moving away from the bar while taking another sip of vodka while I turn, a strange
greasy looking man walks up to me. He is a heavy set man in a black suit. His tie is loosen and thrown around his left shoulder.
He stands just inches away and my body immediately tense up. I just hate it
when people invades my personal space. Just one look at this guy and you can tell that he had one to many.
Hell, just by the smell of him you can tell.
"Can't hold your fucking liquor?" he slur barely managing to stay on his feet.
I glare at him trying not to gag on the scent of his breath when he speak.
The drunk looks over his shoulder, looking at someone sitting a few tables away in a black leather jacket.
The guy is slumping over the table with his back facing us nursing a drink.
"I'm talking to you, you fucking dyke. You're a dyke ain't you?" He spits angrily
spraying me in the face with his fowl saliva.
Realizing he is not getting a rise out of me, he fish a gold wrap condom out his back
pocket. Staggering to keep his balance, he leans forward poking me in the shoulder with his index finger making sure I can see the condom wedge between his other fingers.
"I bet this dick can straighten yo-" before he can finish his sentence I flew up from the stool
I was sitting on with such a force pushing him over a near by table.
The loud crash of this drunken ass hitting the table and the shattering of glasses cause every head to snap in my direction.
I'm now fuming with anger, and god forbid I take another step to this drunk asshole.
The quietness in the bar hit me over the head like a ton of bricks. Fuck! Even the goddamn music stopped.
Everyone focus on me with startled looks on their faces. It seems as though they are all just waiting to see what I will do next.
I glare at the guy trying desperately to get his footing, and failing miserably every time.
Clenching my jaw, I reach into my back pocket pulling out a 50 dollar bill then slap it on the bar counter
before walking towards the door. I can feel the eyes burning through my soul as I exit the bar.
The door close behind me and I just stand there for a moment taking in a slow deep breath.
Something massive bumps into me from behind, propelling me forward, sending me off balance
head first into the side walk. Quickly I regain my footing, cursing bitterly while fighting to stabilize myself.
"Da fuk is wrong wid u?!" cursing at this asshole that almost busted my face into the side walk. "Ey am talkin to u!"
The fool just kept walking giving me a clear view of the back of his black leather jacket.
An eerie feeling washes over me.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on ends as I watch him strut carefree across the deserted road whistling to himself a very familiar tune. "Dat tune.." I trail off "Creepy mother fucker."
I need to calm myself down and being around anyone at this point is not a very good idea.
There is only one thing that can help me right now and that's hitting the gym.
After 10 rounds of taking my frustration out on the punching bag, I am feeling a lot better.
And now I am hungry but what time is it? I fish my phone out of my pocket to check on the time, it said 7:42 pm.
ok it's too late for me to eat any thing heavy. Hmmm, I'll just get some fruits from the grocery store then.
Before I can slide the phone back into my pocket it ping in my hand, I click the button to see who is messaging me.
It's a message from Kyle.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Kyle Mason: Where are you?
Me: At the gym, why?
Kyle Mason: I am in your house.
Me: what's wrong? You ok?
Kyle Mason: Mom left again.
For the life of me I can never understand why people have kids if they can not even spend 5 minutes to give a fuck about them.
Me: Alright, u eat yet? Am about to grab something from the store.
Kyle Mason: No, nothing was home.
Me: Alright, No worries u know a got u. I'll be home soon.
End of conversation.
I like this chapter, I had fun writing it. You have to give her props for restraining her self there in the bar. 😂
