The Journal 7 (Patreon)

I flip to the next page. I have to read more. Something compels me.

He pats my ass, “doll”

filthy green bills shower down

Whiskey whispers “hide.”

A sound like a gunshot. The world freezes. I stand, moving slowly, as if suspended in honey, and I spin.  There's the image of a woman on the bed, naked, her face hidden by her long hair.  I let my eyes trial down, across those small, narrow shoulder blades, to the dramatic ride of her perfect ass, and I reach toward it, wanting to feel it, to slip my hand between those soft thighs...

The image fades. I snatch my had away from where the woman had lain. My skin burns, and I am ashamed at what I was thinking of doing, because somehow I know that girl was-- was-

Whiskey whispers hide. But I can't hide. I look at the card once more.  It's time for me to get out of this hotel and pay a visit to Forbidden.  I am being led there, and I know it.  It could be some kind  of trap, but I don't care. I reach into my jacket and pull my revolver from the shoulder holster. Check it.  Yeah. It's ready, and so am I.