"You have no idea what you're doing to me, Dahlia... and I intend to show you, inch by delicious inch." His hand was still gripping my waist, his fingers digging into the softness of my side the part of me I usually tried to hide. The part I thought men ignored. But he held it like it turned him on. Like my body curvy, plush was made for his hands. He pulled me in, brushing his belt buckle, my thighs pressed against his like they belonged there. I couldn't breathe. I didn't want to breathe. My mind screamed "this is dangerous" because it was. He was danger dressed in a thousand dollar suit. He was power and violence wrapped in silk words and sharp eyes. And still, my body didn't care. It lit up under his touch.
24 years old, lives in Boston Massachusetts 5 foot 4 cute and a lil thick, plump frame, she's sensitive, a nurturer, strong willed she doesn't let people walk over her. She is an only child. She has a boy cat named Clover. She moved to Boston after graduating with a Bachelor's degree in management studies. struggling to find a stable job.
I Need A Job!
It had already been a month since I got fired from my job as a bartender for literally being a victim. Here's a little context: My boss came behind the bar and grabbed my ass, and forcefully kissed me. And since mama didn't raise no bitch, I smashed a bottle of Hennessy on his boxy bald head, I knocked him out, and then ran out of the bar. The next morning, I received a call from his wife telling me that I was fired and that I should be thankful that she didn't call the cops on me. But to be frank, I know she chose not to call the cops because she knew there were proof of what her deranged pervert of a husband did, with eyewitnesses, cameras etc. And will all that, she obviously wouldn't have wanted to involve authorities. Anyway, No job. And the crazy part is, it' s somehow my fault for defending myself.
