Role Playing

by Cathy Yardley

I would rather eat my own intestines than cross your threshold.

Three strikes, and please God, she needed to be out.

She rarely joined guilds, though, because they were often too competitive. Or sexist.

Always sexist.

BOGWITCH: I’ve got a toy drawer full of fun and a lifetime of being disappointed by men. Why the hell would I settle for you amateurs now?

“I don’t care if he’s a tween, or a priest, or a fucking sex god, you get the fuck out of that house!”

Her grin was tiny but evil. Adorably evil, if that was a thing.

“I’m having plenty of orgasms. Men just aren’t involved.”

“Oh my God. You’re like six feet and you’re built like a tank, and you have the audacity to try puppy dog eyes at me?”

She supposed she ought to feel sorrier about cockblocking the woman (or whatever the female equivalent of cockblocking was—clam slamming? cunt shunting?—

Well, he’s not sexually or romantically interested in you at all. And why would he be? You look like a troll that lives under a bridge, and you’re slightly more domesticated than a coyote.

She could fix it herself. Eventually. With a lot of crying and cursing.

“Fuck manly,” she said. “I haven’t met a single self-proclaimed ‘manly man’ that wasn’t an asshole, I swear to God.”

Then he got a look at her, and his brain went completely offline.

“just because I don’t put in this kind of work every day doesn’t mean I can’t, for fuck’s sake.”

So fucking what? I kissed Aiden Bishop, and it was glorious. Ten out of ten, would do again. And will, as soon as he gets his mouth back down here.

Too tol.

I’m surrounded by people who are supposed to love me, as long as I somehow become what they expect of me. And I’m done, okay? I. Am. Done.”