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Occasionally, too, she caught herself thinking, too, about Tony; feeling sad for him. Mind you, what could have been, if she'd stayed with him, was, from where she stood now, positively frightening.
And, coincidentally, months becoming years, miles and miles away, thoughts of Marissa still, occasionally, crossed the minds of both of them: Tony, repeatedly astounded at how badly he had misjudged someone he thought he loved; and Dave, smiling at the recollections. Just another conquest, another slut that rapidly became way too intense. That being said, he still wondered, casually, about what had become of her—still addicted to the ultra-orgasms she got from fucking a really big cock? Prostituting herself, perhaps, to feed her addiction?
Notwithstanding everything that had happened, that had changed, Marissa still told herself that she planned to quit and go home—one day—soon—maybe. Although, more and more, Santa Katerina felt like home; as if she'd been born there. Which, in a way, she had.
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