Total pages in book: 32
Estimated words: 29520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 29520 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 148(@200wpm)___ 118(@250wpm)___ 98(@300wpm)
“Help me clean up first and then you can head out,” Jana says with a smile.
Obediently, I start stacking the dirty dinner dishes and take them to the kitchen. As I’m waiting for the sink to fill with suds, I realize that in about a week, I won’t be participating in this timeless household ritual with my parents: Mom and I take care of the dishes and cleanup while my dad takes out the trash and locks up the house. I glance over at my mom – a lovely woman with long brown hair and a soft, kind face.
“I’m going to miss you, Mom,” I say genuinely over the din of the faucet. She merely smiles back at me, but my heart warms anyways.
Once we’ve finished our chores, I head toward my bedroom to pack a few things that I’ll need for my night with Bess.
My room is tiny and stuffed to the gills with my artwork. Sculptures adorn every surface, and paintings are hung edge-to-edge on the walls. After all, I have a knack for sketching and I’m surprisingly good at repurposing junk. As a result, most of my décor is handmade. I’m already lamenting the fact that I can’t bring any decorations with me to the Lazy R, but now is not the time to wallow.
I change clothes quickly, opting for a crop top with a scoop neck that dips dangerously low and a matching mini-skirt. I throw on a sweatshirt and long jacket to hide my outfit, and then take stock of my hair. As usual, my mess of thick brown hair is wild. I run a comb through the curls, but to no avail. I have a lion’s mane, and that’s that.
Shrugging, I stuff a few overnight essentials into my backpack and head to the front door.
“You off?” Mom asks me, eyeing my outfit with a slightly puzzled look.
I shrug it off. “Yeah. I’ll be home around lunch time tomorrow,” I say in a casual tone.
We stare at one another for a moment, and I can tell my mom is suspicious, but then she relents. With a sigh, Jana says, “Well, have a good night then, sweetheart, and tell Bess hi.”
I plant a quick kiss on my mom’s cheek and then pull on my boots. Before Mom can get another word in, I dash to the pickup truck and crank the engine. The old machine roars to life, and slowly, I make my way down our dark driveway in the direction of Bess’s house.
“Hey girlfriend,” she says, popping open the screen door as I pull up. “You ready to go?”
“Yee-haw!” I remark with a smile. Bess scrambles into my truck, and we take off under the starlit sky. It’s a beautiful night, and we fill the cab with gossip and giggles. But when we pull into the parking lot of Skye One, a transformation occurs. Bess and I pull off our outerwear to reveal scandalous outfits beneath. I hitch my skirt a little higher and my décolletage a little lower to show off my busty Double Ds. Bess is the same. She’s wearing a denim mini-dress, the laces so tight in the front that her boobies threaten to spill out. I giggle. We may be curvy girls, but we’re not afraid to show off our figures.
Then, we waltz into the club, the music pulsating. There’s a high-top table near the dance floor, and we glide over, taking the seats. People are jamming, chatting, and drinking excitedly. It’s too loud to really talk, but Bess and I try.
I take a long swig of my drink, enjoying its coolness against the heat of the bar, while Bess does the same.
“I can’t believe they’re shipping you off,” my friend says loudly over the music. “It’s so uncool.”
“Yeah, I know! And a dude ranch too. What were Jim and Jana thinking? I hate nature,” I shout back in response, taking another long pull of my drink. “It’s so bullshit. I have to work outside with like animals and crap. Literally, I’ll be knee deep in cow dung. Shit,” I moan into my hand dramatically.
Bess props one arm on the table and leans toward me. “I’m going to miss you so much,” she shouts, her eyes somewhat teary, although from which emotion, I can’t quite tell.
I merely nod in agreement, feeling slightly emotional about the situation myself.
Or maybe I’m buzzed, I think ruefully.
I let my eyes roam around the room, savoring this final night of freedom before I’m forced to give it all up. Everyone in the bar is clearly drunk, rubbing their bodies against one another and slamming beer mugs together in happy salutations. There’s a brawl breaking out in one corner of the room, but nothing too major. A couple has started making out against the wall by the bathroom. A couple of high school acquaintances are hovering at a table further away, clearly already sloshed.