Dear Vicky

by Octavia Grant

“So, this Vicky bitch is a tar baby. A black bit-” Before she could finish her degrading insult, I grabbed the 35-lb dumbbell and swung it at her head. “Don't you ever call Vicky that word!” I screamed as I raised the dumbbell over my head, bringing it down to mother’s face again and again and again.

My mother died during childbirth so I never got a chance to meet her, but I'm sure she would have loved to meet you.

The last thing I wanted was for these keys to land in the wrong hands.

balls. I had ejaculated so hard that I was slightly embarrassed. It felt like a pile of Elmers glue was sitting in my underwear and attempting to slide down my legs.

His dark skin, muscles and bald head made him think that he was entitled to any woman.