”“He’s supposed to make you happy too, you know. When’s the last time Dad made you laugh ... really laugh?”“I ... can’t remember. I gues... I don’t laugh much anymore.”“What makes you happy, Mom?”“You make me very happy, David.”“I mean what did you used to do that you really liked to do?”Thinking though the fog was a chore but her face suddenly lightened and there was a slight smile. “Dancing. Your father used to take me dancing when we were first married. Slow dancing. Romantic dancing. I so. . is the best I can offer!", stated Marcel attempting a second try at holding in his smoke. Jill took this opportunity to mock going down on Marcel again, causing another force exhale of puff followed by a muffled coughing. Through gritted teeth and in a harsh, smokey voice Marcel offered back the almost burnt out joint: "Here, it wasn't meant for me to enjoy!"Jill giggled and laughed, promising not to do it again, but Marcel shirked it off and held out the offending article to Jill and myself. I stood up and attempted to shake off the last twenty-four hours. I poured myself a large glass of red wine, I went and fetched my phone from its charging point in the kitchen, and then I went and sat in the living room. I sat down on the settee Pete and I had sat on and fucked on early this morning. I took a large gulp of wine and resisted the urge to curl up into the tiniest of balls and cry, again.I had one message off Liam that simply said, ‘Call me or message me whenever you want to or. I got to the appointed corner and stood around for a minute or two until a car pulled up and asked me if I was Rena, the fake name I had decided to go by. I walked up to the car, opened the door and got in.I surprised myself with how talkative I was being...I tried to remember things about hookers I had read in pulp fiction novels and stuff..that I should be friendly and comfortable seeming....eager to please. He was a Romanian foreign exchange student at the law school, he told me at least,.
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