Page 22 (1/2)

A young, perfect little doll

I’m not sure that she’s twenty-two It’s so hard to tell oal It could be that Charlie’s license is fake and she’s a minor I’ve already sent her paperwork off toa call fro her previous e other dancers, I don’t care too as club But I aefk

What if I just put a fourteen-year-old on ht out offor excuses, reasons for why hiring her is a fking bad idea Reasons besidesa cri as she needs it That, I know for sure After distancing myself--with Rebecka’s help--I was able to see that I was overreacting I thought about telling her she can only bartend but decided against it The stage ht It’ll be fine I’ll just have to get used to seeing Charlie topless every day I’ to send her off to suck Rick’s cock--or worse--because I want to avoid a case of blue balls

So now here I a nursemaid to me And all I want to do is touch her

Fuck

She clears her throat and then, with a slight chuckle, says, "Can you believe he shot himself in the foot?" The sound of her voice and the way her face softened are so contradictory given the words she just spoke, and e just went through Most women--and men, frankly--would be rattled after a bullet barely er would be throwing a proper fit Kacey, my former bartender, would have murdered the man with her bare hands But Charlie continues to be surprisingly calm and unperturbed by the entire experience

Is this the way she has always been? Or did so addicts," I le to die off abruptly Ah, Cain If only you had a sense of hu

And probably on her back in that bed

But none of what happened today is remotely funny "Charlie, I really don’t like the idea of you staying in an aparthbors You could have been shot"

Her unreadable eyes flash to h, not sure what else to say I’ my best not to coirls don’t need a do boss and I don’t own their lives They need to feel like they’retheir own decisions, even if it’s with my help But, seriouslya bullet just flew past her head and she still doesn’t want to er suddenly grazes my skin behind my ear, where my tattoo is "She must have been so the letters softly

I don’t answer, the feel of her skin againstdeep inside I need her to not be touching ht now The intensity of the day is finallya pent-up ball of stress inside She’s not wearing a bra and that shirt is cut way too low When she hugged h the thin fabric I was so relieved when she pulled away, before she had a chance to feel the response inthem in my face, the way she has positioned herself I wonder if that’s intentional