Penatrating blue eyes stare at me over my job application. The man sitting before me could potentially be my employer and for some reason my mind has begun to slip into an inappropriate place. Who knew an interview could be so arousing? Would it really be so bad if we fucked right here on this very table? He’s staring at me again. Shit. I didn’t respond to his question. God he looks so delicious. Like that warm buttery popcorn behind us in the concession stand. If he were the popcorn I would devour the whole bag and then lick the sticky remains from my finger tips. The tie he is wearing would feel better if it was wrapped around my throat If only he would move push me to my knees and shove his cock down my throat. He clears his throat. Oops guess I dazed off again. “So you’ll start tomorrow”. I wouldn’t find out until months later that my shirt had perhaps been a little too low cut and he had been staring at my nipples throughout the whole interview.



A fisher: that’s what they’ll call you. A pathetic excuse for a human being. Always looking for a compliment. The name seems so realistic, but yet so far from what I am. I never intended to be that girl. Fuck your compliments. They do not define me. I define me. I am nothing you see. Just me. I don’t know when or how I became so fragile. The inner self laughs at my dispare. I have never been the girl to rely upon others compliments, but yet that is what I have become. A wayward soul. Don’t get attached, but yet you still dare. Ha. Loner by choice. I think not.
Run before you are pushed away