An Unexpected Paradise

by Chelsea Curto

“I always let the woman finish first,” he says huskily, soft enough for

only me to hear. “No one leaves unsatisfied.”

What I didn’t account for is the sultry noise and sharp inhale. The way time seems to stop as she holds her breath for four seconds before releasing it in a stuttered exhale that acts as an autumn breeze flittering across my chin and cooling my rapidly heating skin.

“It’s a big fucking problem, because she’s bright and kind and nice and beautiful and nothing like the broken, messed up, unwanted piece of scraps I am,”

There’s no way to sugarcoat this. You are sweet, and I am not. I’m sorry. For so many things. -JL