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"Do I have to sign somewhere?"
"No," said her boss, smiling and unbuckling his trousers. "You have a very different kind of formality to fulfil, one that you have fulfilled very well so far I might add."
Heather was too weary to fight this any longer. The sight of the stubby and thoroughly disgusting prick never got better, neither did the sticky feeling of the cum going down her throat and splattering across her face.
So she did the only thing she could do. She locked her lips around her boss' cock and sucked like a good little whore. One last time.
Sunrise was always a special time of the day for Heather. She leaned on her balcony railing, admiring the red orb breaking through the horizon and spreading its brightness across the dawn sky. The skyline was reduced to a silhouette of black shapes against the brilliant sun.
Heather took a long drag of her Marlboro, ensuring it was completely spent. The sunlight painted her skin and hair, the tendrils of warmth reaching her skin.
"What are you doing all the way over here?" said a sultry voice behind her. She did not look back, focusing on the dazzling kaleidoscope of colours created by the sun shining on Manhattan's skyscrapers. Finally, she turned to her side to see Alicia Warner, the PR lady, leaning on the railing and squinting. The rising sun layered a crimson hue on her fair face.
"Last night was something else, right?" she said.
"I hope you remember our agreement," asked Heather, raising an eyebrow.
"No one calls. Got it," said Alicia laughing. "It's going to be hard as hell to resist the temptation, but I'll find a way. Where was that lesbian bar you mentioned again?"
They shared a laugh and kissed softly.
"I have a meeting to get to in a few hours and should probably start on my presentation," said Alicia, pulling her underwear on. "What's the quickest way to Battery Park?"
"Give me a sec and I'll save the route into your phone," said Heather. She took one last pull on the cigarette before tossing the stub off her balcony. It fell thirty storeys, its last embers burning out to the cold morning air as it finally landed on the pavement, atop the carcasses of thousands of dreams.
The real tragedy, however, is that dreamers live on and suffer, long after their dreams have died.
- COMMENTS
FranziskaSissy4 months agoExtraordinary
A real worthy second tale for the Master mind lawyer Heather …. The perverting criminals are the rich or the powerful ones, abusing the law until it fits perfectly, doesn’t matter how awful they act and rape or beating women is extremely perverted, its sickness
Fiona dont let the music die Please 🙏
💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝✨☘️ 🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸🎸
AC_Pandorraabout 7 years agoIt is such a nice painting of shuttered dreams. Wether you like the picture or not, is one thing. No reason to discuss about the artful skills of painting though. As usual a pleasure to read it.
Anonymousover 9 years agoIt's a pleasure to finally read a story that's not riddled with errors of punctuation, grammar and spelling.
Very nice.
Anonymousover 9 years agoYou're a damned good writer but what a sad, bleak, hideous world you've created with your Heather Franklin tales. It pains me to admit this world probably does exist and I'm only too pleased that most of we normal people are too small to be caught up in its net.
