She slipped out of her nightie and hopped into a pair of jeans, threw on a hoodie over the t-shirt she’d just changed into, and headed downstairs. The cold brass of her keys pressed against her hand as she scooped them off the table and hustled out the front door. She didn’t feel a hint of hesitation as she opened her car door and slid inside. The key found its way into the ignition and–
She stopped.
Turn it! Turn it and you can actually get what you want! Stop depriving yourself!
She stared at her dashboard for the next ninety seconds.
Sexy, young, fit people want to fuck your brains out! Isn’t that what you want? Why are you making this so hard on yourself?
She pulled the key out of the ignition, exited her car, and stood alone in the driveway. She slammed the door shut behind her.
“YOU’RE SUCH A WIMP!” she screamed before storming up the blacktop and back into the house. She ran to her room and hurried to grab her vibrator. Sadly, she had yet another night of mediocre self-pleasure ahead of herself.
Chapter 8 — Sherbet
One Week Later. 5:59 PM.
The kitchen hummed a chaotic symphony of roaring blender blades tearing through ice. She removed the cup and unfastened the lid–her finger dipping into the cold, tasty treat below–and raised it to her lips. It wasn’t too icy, but it wasn’t too watery either. It was the perfect consistency. She retrieved a container and dumped the pink substance inside before using a lid to seal it shut.