Right To My Wrong

By: Lani Lynn Vale


The next few hours seemed to drag by as I waited for the end of the night. By the time two A.M. rolled around, I was practically bouncing off the walls to leave.

Not that I had anything to go and do on my Saturday night.

Nobody in Uncertain, Texas had anything to do on any night, whether it be Monday or Saturday.

We had two bars, two restaurants that closed at eight p.m., a Walgreens near the interstate, a Dollar Store, and a neighborhood grocer.

That was literally it.

Unless you wanted to go to the lake, something that I didn’t do. Not at night, anyway.

I wasn’t one for being eaten alive by alligators.

Humming to myself, as I always did, I locked up and started to walk around the building where I parked.

As I spotted my car, I nearly choked on my tongue when the dildo that Mr. Griffin had purchased, a few hours earlier, sat on my hood with a note that said, “I won’t be needing this.”

I laughed as I took it home.

I wasn’t laughing at all an hour later when I was using that thing of beauty and calling out Griffin’s name as I came.

Hard.

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