MIA
“Come on, Tanya. Pick up your damn phone.” I look away from the road briefly and dial her number again.
It’s the fourth time now, and she hasn’t picked. I need to speak to her, she’s the only one who will look at my situation without judgement, and offer great advice.
Okay.
Maybe not GREAT advice. But I can trust her not to judge me.
Finally, it connects.
“Oh my God, Tanya. Thank God you finally picked. Listen, I need to talk to you. Something happened with—“
“f**k! Oh god, yes—harder, please, f**k me harder—”
Loud, breathy, desperate moaning fills the speaker.
I narrow my eyes on my phone screen, visibly taken aback.
Tanya’s voice, raw and broken with pleasure, begging whoever is inside her.
Of course.
The Haze has her too. She’s deep in it, lost to someone’s c**k
