I am a new writer from England with a triptic mind and good vocabulary. Be prepared for disturbed sex drugs and rock n roll with a twist.
Last Train to ERGO
I was searching for that look, that morsel, that hint of a chance, that look the jackpot. No, no , no, maybe, NO, nope, nada, nit, nah, nay, maybe, ooh maybe. I sit down trying not to let my heart stop from the wonderlust that is the game with no name, my game, the game you only talk about to God at night to stop you from playing but, it is she that wills you on. A snap reels my head back into the present as I stumble into the seat trying not to buffoon animal myself too much.
No regrets - Well maybe
So, there I was, it was summer about 27 degrees and hot as hell in the kitchen. It was a busy lunch at the cattle grid we had over 50 covers. I was mainly over the grill the worst place to be on a day like today sweating profusely. I was tired and grouchy, and the head chefs taste in music was shit, house music, boring as fuck. Anyway, so I had had 2 steaks come back complaining they were overdone when I checked them they were perfect, customers really pissed me off hence the reason I was not front of house. I re did them bloody and the customers seemed happy but what a fucking waste of food. I’ll save them for the dogs later. The afternoon carried on getting worse for some reason our front of house system kept sending the wrong orders. We recooked so much meat that we could have built a house with what we were going to throw away. By this point I was furious and snapping at anyone who dared speak to me. The final straw came when a dainty little waitress named Greta came up to me and asked if I could cut the steak up for the customer.
I slip my silk lucky boxer shorts on; they feel good especially on my cock. I am feeling fresh having just showered with my mint body wash and had a close shave. I go over to my four-poster bed and my shirt and jeans are laid neatly on the crisp freshly washed crimson sheets. I put on my Gucci jeans that show off my peachy ass then slip into my striped Ben Sherman shirt. I sit on the bed put on my socks then my Gucci boots. I feel like a sexy cowboy a hard lean pleasure machine. I walk over to the mirror in the bathroom check myself over and apply my aftershave. It stings slightly and takes away from the anticipation tingling through my body. I wink at myself then walk back to the bedroom check everything looks good pick up my leather jacket head over to the chest of drawers and pull out the bottle, put it in my top jacket pocket and go to leave my penthouse apartment. I check myself in the full-length mirror by the front door. You sexy cunt. I leave take the elevator and enter the cold night. Even the coolness of the night couldn't stop my blood from boiling. It had been a full lunar month since I last had a woman and tonight was my night.