Deep Throat Queen
Pretty rough, she thought to herself. Sandy, half-matted hair, reddened face, raccoon eyes where her sunglasses had been. She took off her t-shirt: sharp contrast between the flesh her singlet had and had not covered. Burnt ears that she’d forgotten to cover with the sunblock. She decided she needed a shower too. She peeled off her pants.Naked, Heather walked out of the room and over to the bathroom door. She turned the knob quietly and opened the door a crack. There was a mist in the air and a loud pounding of the shower. She opened the door quietly and went in. Fortunately it was a large shower stall and Jerry was facing sideways with his head directly under the showerhead. Heather opened the smoked glass door and stepped into the shower.“What the fu--,” Jerry exclaimed as he turned to face her.“Need any help?” Heather asked, grinning. She grabbed a bar of soap off of the ledge and began lathering up her palms.“All that I can get!” Jerry said enthusiastically.“I’ll wash you,” she. Ava peered up to the darkening clouds as the first drops of rain landed on her face. Soon, it was coming down in sheets. She felt her clothing get heavy with the weight of the water, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave her post at the front of the ship. Madison and Ms. Ambani were inside the cabin, relaxing as the yacht made its way to the island, but Ava wasn’t ready to do the same. She needed to feel the rain wash the last year of her life off of her skin. The Doctor hadn’t found her as she’d promised. Ava had waited, of course, and the ache of it had burrowed inside her. The hope had felt like an infection that kept her from stitching closed an open wound. In the beginning, Dr. Prescott had been a fantasy that constantly reshaped into new forms. But as the weeks passed into months, she disappeared into a world of what ifs. What if she’d been gentler, what if she’d tried harder, what if she’d never told the Doctor about Maddie, what if she’d been different, what if she.
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