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…loving and giving…

He held back her hair as she vomited copiously into the gutter.
As she staggered up, he shifted her discarded purse under his other arm, so he could support her with the free hand – “You okay, baby?”
She snorted, wiped her face in the crook of her elbow, and pushed him away – “Pfuck off…”
His concern suggested he wasn’t sure what she’d been using – he’d only arrived at the club a little while ago.   Her friends had handed her over at the door under the watchful eye of the bouncer, then gone back inside in relief.
He’d parked in the alley around the corner.   They only got past the first dumpster before she was heaving up everything bought over the bar and under the counter…   “Honey?”
She waved a warning hand at him – “Don’ pfuckin’ start with me…” – staggered to his car, wrenched open the door, half-toppled into the passenger seat, and promptly passed out.
He picked up the strappy sandal she’d dropped, got in, and felt for his keys.    It’s a mystery what made him glance into the rear-vision mirror.
The dark passenger in the back tipped the driver’s seat up again after, though.   The girl, tarnished and therefore untouched, never even stirred – even when her man then fell gently forward, and then sidewards, and bled his last out on her sequined lap.





  1. You threw me for a loop with that one. Damnnn!

  2. @@criss3: Jonathon likes clean blood, not stuff saturated with who-knows-what. Logical if one thinks about it.

    Jonathon, let no one tell you that you lack imagination when hunting.

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