The friend was cheap looking, with shoulder length bleached hair and dark brown roots an inch long, her skin a deep tan with an orangish tinge, her fa...e caked in foundation a shade too dark and thick black eyeliner ringed her washed out blue eyes. She was wearing a thin shirt, her black bra showing through it, and a skirt that just barely covered her ass. Her shoes were four inch heels and he winced to himself just looking at them. She was stick thin, and looked as though she had starved. One day, however, all the pressure, all the stress, all the tiny threads of my life as ‘John Robert Ennis IV’ came undone. I didn’t go berserk. I didn’t tell my father where to go. I didn’t shoot anyone. My body just froze in terror. I was hospitalized for a month. The doctors were clueless, but I knew what was wrong. My father was appalled. My mother was shaken. I would not go back to the bank, ever again. I would do what I wanted for the very first time in my life. I wanted to make things. I. "Yeah, I had a great connection in New Orleans. I'm gonna be sad to see that go."He did two lines and laid back on the bed. I did another and knelt next to him. He looked up at me. At that moment we knew what was going to happen and no words needed to be said. I leaned over him and kissed him hard on the mouth. He groaned and brought his hands up to pull me down on him.We groped and kissed like we never wanted it to end. His hands found the zipper of my dress and began to slide it down. I. Daddy? When did that start? "It's kinda not a problem. Their security cameras are... um... broken, kinda." So, what is broken, kinda? Is that, like, broken? Or, like, not broken? And when is something kinda not a problem? Oh, wait, these are teenage girls, so it's, like, the same thing only different."Now how would you know they are broken, Katie?" I asked. Not that I was expecting an answer that would make a lick of sense. I heard Megan laugh. Now that was a pleasant sound I didn't hear nearly.
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