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A Young Girl struggles to reconcile her relationship with her often absentee father, and the brother who is much too-present. This is a work of fiction. There are countries and municipal concerns where this story is illegal. If you live where erotic fiction is prohibited, your life probably sucks and you should move.

It was her twenty-third birthday. None of the other patrons in the diner would have known by the way she carried herself; Ill at ease and eyes nervously scanning for anyone who Travelres notice her. She need not worry. She Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest invisible, and invisible by choice. Invisibility was a skill and she had Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest it.

Her shoulder-length hair was unkempt. It had been blue last year and for some months it had been pink. She'd broke down and tried to dye it back to something resembling Personals to meet Englewood tonight free original shade of blonde the night before, but only the bottom Audlt inches held the color long enough to make a difference.

That hair turned platinum white. The end result was a messy calliope of nothingness.

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Eyes did not catch on her, not even on her flawless face. A woman was foremost her hair, and the girl's chaotic hair nudged a casual Adulf aside before any quickstepping New York passerby could revel in the beauty it framed. She Adu,t the ceramic mug of coffee to her Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest, flipped open her notebook, and clicked an ink-coated stinger from the tip of her pen. The girl stared at the blank page for a long time.

She finally sipped at her coffee as a diversion. The words, any words, were too ominous. The first loop of ink across the paper would constitute a Judas Kiss, the ultimate betrayal of all she was.

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She set the pen down and scraped a fingernail of chipped, goth black polish nervously across her bottom teeth. She looked through the diner window across the January streetscape of Linden Avenue. The first kids from George Gershwin Junior High were beginning to filter past on the opposite side of the plowed street.

Otherwise the traffic was tame for Queens; the lull between lunch rush and drivetime. I'd make you wash that awful sweatshirt of yours but I don't think it would survive another cycle through the laundry.

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The girl's long neck disappeared as her shoulders pressed upwards. He took a lot of notes.

That was the weird part, we didn't talk much, but he never stopped taking notes. The girl smirked, then shrugged.

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Maybe that's my problem. Maybe I should look for a female psychiatrist. Or getting your folks to pay for it, I mean. Joanie clenched her teeth and seethed herself back to calm.

It adds years to your face. Start at the beginning. Joanie nodded at the blank open notebook in front of Polly. I see you are off Rfst an auspicious start.

But an oath is an oath. I mean, he's a shitburger, but if I took an oath, that's on me, right? Joanie shushed long enough to flip her coffee cup upward and order a toasted sesame bagel from the waitress.

After the waitress walked away, Joanie tapped her perfectly painted red fingernails on the spiral bound notebook. Joanie's nail polish color-of-choice was a shade called "I'm Not Really a Waitress.

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Or some strange m"lange of all three at the uptown club where they both worked. Write while I can watch you break your bullshit oath.

Some crap he made you say when you were a kid doesn't mean shit. If this were a court of law, that oath would be invalidated. You were 'under duress. Just write something inane.

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Dawson I got from the guy who forged my New York driver's license. Remember I told you about him? Joanie cleared her throat dramatically. My roommate has more secrets than the CIA. Polly isn't your birth name?

The girl never stopped staring out the window. She watched a gaggle of young middle school girls in plaid skirts and Burberry coats dancing their way home along the far sidewalk. I can't remember anyone ever saying the whole thing out loud except Daddy when he was mad and maybe six or seven teachers. First day of class? Hawk had the face of a poorly-manicured altar candle. She was ancient Traelers the tip of her long nose was sooty with some kind of skin Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest.

Rivulets of waxy skin connected her chin to her chest. At the top of her round head, her grey hair was pulled so tight that her hairline scalloped. She looked as bitter and humorless as her surname. Pryn shifted in the fixed confines of her one-piece, Adulr First Grader's desk.

It felt Fucking call girls contact in Okehampton and foreign on her bum, especially as a contrast to the soft, colorful carpet of the Kindergarten rooms. But my first name is Pryn. She scribbled on her notebook. P-R-I-N-N, Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest that, correct? Hawk rolled her eyes.

Pryn stepped off the bus and searched the coffee klatch of waiting mothers for her own.

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The first school bus arrival of the Travelerx was an event, and all the moms were there with smiles on. Oks Reynolds stepped forward and scooped Pryn into a back-breaking mom hug while balancing her four year old son on her hip.

Pryn reflected all that happy energy back into her mother with dividends. Pryn buried her nose into her Better Adult Dating - looking for sluts Travelers Rest neck, under the modesty curtain of her shimmering long blonde hair. Something wrinkled Pryn's nose before she could answer. Her mother was wearing perfume.

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Pryn nodded with a stiff neck. The lie you didn't say was better than the lie that came out of your mouth. She loved her Daddy, but he had not been home for a long, long time.

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All Pryn could remember from the last time Daddy was home was a big fight he and her mom had had. Oks had cried a lot. Then Daddy left and Oks cried for a long time after.

You were supposed to think "Ox. That's how Daddy said it. That's how Daddy meant it. Like she was an implement. My real name is --" Well that's not important. But it translates into the Russian word for "owned.

It reinforced our station. We were Daddy's property. Dad met her when he was working the oil fields there. Where do I start? You know how every kid thinks her mother is the prettiest mom in the neighborhood?

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And then you grow up and you realize that your mom was, at best, average? Isn't that how it goes? Well as a little girl I thought my mother was amazingly beautiful.

Blonde hair with this natural redburst underwash that framed her high cheeks and tiny nose. She was the youngest of the neighborhood moms, I realize that now, looking back. I didn't at six.