Ava - 4 years ago~~~ I smile into our frantic kiss as he deepens it, his tongue tracing the bottom of my lip like he’s begging for permission. I grant him his wish, allowing our tongues to intertwine as he lets out a deep groan. He’s not the best kisser, but I love him, and that’s enough to make my skin flush under his touch. I'm desperate to feel all of him, for him to take my virginity and push into my pulsing core. In the background, the TV blares annoyingly. It’s some news story about a billionaire named Leonel something, who owns a massive tech company, and is in the middle of a divorce. I feel sorry for him, I really do, but it’s hard to care when I’m grinding on the love of my life and I feel his cock writhe under me. I can't believe this is happening. He breaks the kiss, and even as I try and look him in the eye, he evades me, pulling off my shirt in one swift motion to expose the red lacy bra I bought just for him. It was expensive, probably the nicest thing I own, bu
Ava - 4 Years Later ~~~ “Up next, please put your hands together for Ava Allard!” I startle at the sound of my name and the polite applause that follows it. I didn’t expect I'd have to go on stage anytime soon, but I guess that’s part of the curse of having a last name that starts with the letter A. I walk up to the stage, and my head immediately begins to swim with how many people are present. Jesus Christ. There must be at least a hundred people sitting in this room, all of them pining over the different paintings from all the incredible painters around New York. And now it's my turn to face them. Fuck. I adjust my curly red hair with a steady hand as the smiling presenter hands me a microphone to address the crowd. Even in my 6-inch stilettos, I don’t reach the presenter’s neck. When I hesitate at the curtain, his smile twitches in agitation, and he pushes me out to face the crowd head-on. I was wrong before, there must be thousands of people here, not hundreds. M
Ava ~~~I’ll pay you $100,000. Each.The words ring in my head as I make my way through the crowd, feeling weightless. I still can’t believe they were said for my work. I’ve never sold a single painting over a few hundred dollars, and even then, most of that money goes to my rent, the rest I spend on TV dinners that barely help me through the month. This was meant to be my big break, but I never thought it’d be this incredible.After the presenter collects his finder’s fee of 10% for each artwork, I’ll still be left with a whopping $270,000. I nearly drop my phone, staring at the calculator app like it’s going to save my life, and technically it is.That kind of money will change the trajectory of my life. Not only is it enough to get me out of that terrible apartment with a leaking roof and a horrible landlord who forces us to refer to her as The Madame, but I can finally afford to escape America entirely, and start my life somewhere the man from ”the incident” will never find me.
Ava~~~I back away on my hands and knees till I hit the wall, trying to steady my breathing as flashbacks of "the incident" threaten to take over.Mr Riggs backs away too, his breath becoming heavier as beads of sweat roll down his floppy cheeks.“This isn’t … I didn.’t…” He stutters pathetically, looking at me as if I’m going to help him. He turns back to the man, “Mr Sinclair, please.”Sinclair. I swear I know that name from somewhere, almost like he’s famous, but I can’t put my finger on who he is, and the tension in the room makes it harder to focus on him.Sinclair crosses the room in two strides, and before I can react, he twists Mr Riggs's hand to his back, his eyes off me entirely, now narrowed at the man I believe he wholeheartedly intends to kill.“You think it's funny to prey on weak girls?” My head snaps up at him as I hear him call me weak, and just like that, "the incident" leaves my head, replaced with a familiar but safe anger.“Even worse, you want to attack a woman
Ava~~~ Silence Pin-drop silence. If I thought people were focusing on me before, the whole world was doing it now. To Mr Sinclair’s credit, he doesn’t move, almost as if he’s completely unfazed that I’ve touched him. But I’ve dealt with men who mask their emotions in the past, and there’s no denying the glimmer of rage in his eye. If I should be scared, I don’t feel it. Seeing him barely react only makes my itch to harm him grow. To my left, a lady who was carrying glasses of champagne around the room has now frozen. I take a glass off the tray and throw the drink in Mr Sinclair’s face, causing the audience to gasp. This shocks him a bit more, and he takes a graceful step back with his jaw clenched. Good. “Listen,” I say, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you don’t impress me. If you think you can throw a few thousand dollars at me and then treat me however you want, you’re greatly mistaken. Why don’t you find some other poor helpless girl to fuck wit
Ava ~~~ Evelyn hurriedly stuffs my little box to its limit, clothes spilling out in a way that tells me the cheap contraption isn’t going to be able to shut well. “Leonel Sinclair?” She demands for the fifth time, “You slapped, splashed and kissed the Leonel Sinclair?” Even through my worry, I glance up from the cardboard box I was throwing my kitchen appliances into, “Splashed?” She waves it off, “it’s a word I use for throwing drinks in people’s faces.” “And you need this word regularly why?” Evelyn huffs out, “Ava! That’s not the point. You assaulted a billionaire. No, scratch that. You assaulted the billionaire who makes other billionaire’s look like… like us!” “You mean pretty?” I joke innocently, even though I feel my hands shake from fear. I clench them into fists. “Broke!” She throws her hands up, “He makes them look poor cause he’s that damn rich.” I know she’s taking this seriously, and I want to as well, but I need to get out of this apartment first, bef
Ava ~~~ Like I would ever drop my knife. I come out of the room, my hand wrapped around the blade, ignoring her warning entirely. The Madame sits cross-legged on the couch, her large frame taking up most of the space. She’s staring at the blank tv even after I make my appearance, but even though she doesn’t look at me, that evil smile she’d used to warn me about the late payment of my rent sits on her face, ready to take a bite out of me. She switches on the television and for some odd reason flips to the news channel. “So,” she starts, “I heard a rumor about you.” My blood runs cold. How did she know I was already planning to leave? The only person who i told was Evelyn, and she would never snitch. Finally The Madame turns her soulless eyes towards me, “Actually I heard two, but let’s start with the one that directly affects my wallet.” In one swift motion she pulls a gun out of her pocket, and it takes everything in me not to scream. Guns take me back to The I
Ava ~~~ Evelyn hurriedly stuffs my little box to its limit, clothes spilling out in a way that tells me the cheap contraption isn’t going to be able to shut well. “Leonel Sinclair?” She demands for the fifth time, “You slapped, splashed and kissed the Leonel Sinclair?” Even through my worry, I glance up from the cardboard box I was throwing my kitchen appliances into, “Splashed?” She waves it off, “it’s a word I use for throwing drinks in people’s faces.” “And you need this word regularly why?” Evelyn huffs out, “Ava! That’s not the point. You assaulted a billionaire. No, scratch that. You assaulted the billionaire who makes other billionaire’s look like… like us!” “You mean pretty?” I joke innocently, even though I feel my hands shake from fear. I clench them into fists. “Broke!” She throws her hands up, “He makes them look poor cause he’s that damn rich.” I know she’s taking this seriously, and I want to as well, but I need to get out of this apartment first, bef
Ava~~~ Silence Pin-drop silence. If I thought people were focusing on me before, the whole world was doing it now. To Mr Sinclair’s credit, he doesn’t move, almost as if he’s completely unfazed that I’ve touched him. But I’ve dealt with men who mask their emotions in the past, and there’s no denying the glimmer of rage in his eye. If I should be scared, I don’t feel it. Seeing him barely react only makes my itch to harm him grow. To my left, a lady who was carrying glasses of champagne around the room has now frozen. I take a glass off the tray and throw the drink in Mr Sinclair’s face, causing the audience to gasp. This shocks him a bit more, and he takes a graceful step back with his jaw clenched. Good. “Listen,” I say, “I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you don’t impress me. If you think you can throw a few thousand dollars at me and then treat me however you want, you’re greatly mistaken. Why don’t you find some other poor helpless girl to fuck wit
Ava~~~I back away on my hands and knees till I hit the wall, trying to steady my breathing as flashbacks of "the incident" threaten to take over.Mr Riggs backs away too, his breath becoming heavier as beads of sweat roll down his floppy cheeks.“This isn’t … I didn.’t…” He stutters pathetically, looking at me as if I’m going to help him. He turns back to the man, “Mr Sinclair, please.”Sinclair. I swear I know that name from somewhere, almost like he’s famous, but I can’t put my finger on who he is, and the tension in the room makes it harder to focus on him.Sinclair crosses the room in two strides, and before I can react, he twists Mr Riggs's hand to his back, his eyes off me entirely, now narrowed at the man I believe he wholeheartedly intends to kill.“You think it's funny to prey on weak girls?” My head snaps up at him as I hear him call me weak, and just like that, "the incident" leaves my head, replaced with a familiar but safe anger.“Even worse, you want to attack a woman
Ava ~~~I’ll pay you $100,000. Each.The words ring in my head as I make my way through the crowd, feeling weightless. I still can’t believe they were said for my work. I’ve never sold a single painting over a few hundred dollars, and even then, most of that money goes to my rent, the rest I spend on TV dinners that barely help me through the month. This was meant to be my big break, but I never thought it’d be this incredible.After the presenter collects his finder’s fee of 10% for each artwork, I’ll still be left with a whopping $270,000. I nearly drop my phone, staring at the calculator app like it’s going to save my life, and technically it is.That kind of money will change the trajectory of my life. Not only is it enough to get me out of that terrible apartment with a leaking roof and a horrible landlord who forces us to refer to her as The Madame, but I can finally afford to escape America entirely, and start my life somewhere the man from ”the incident” will never find me.
Ava - 4 Years Later ~~~ “Up next, please put your hands together for Ava Allard!” I startle at the sound of my name and the polite applause that follows it. I didn’t expect I'd have to go on stage anytime soon, but I guess that’s part of the curse of having a last name that starts with the letter A. I walk up to the stage, and my head immediately begins to swim with how many people are present. Jesus Christ. There must be at least a hundred people sitting in this room, all of them pining over the different paintings from all the incredible painters around New York. And now it's my turn to face them. Fuck. I adjust my curly red hair with a steady hand as the smiling presenter hands me a microphone to address the crowd. Even in my 6-inch stilettos, I don’t reach the presenter’s neck. When I hesitate at the curtain, his smile twitches in agitation, and he pushes me out to face the crowd head-on. I was wrong before, there must be thousands of people here, not hundreds. M
Ava - 4 years ago~~~ I smile into our frantic kiss as he deepens it, his tongue tracing the bottom of my lip like he’s begging for permission. I grant him his wish, allowing our tongues to intertwine as he lets out a deep groan. He’s not the best kisser, but I love him, and that’s enough to make my skin flush under his touch. I'm desperate to feel all of him, for him to take my virginity and push into my pulsing core. In the background, the TV blares annoyingly. It’s some news story about a billionaire named Leonel something, who owns a massive tech company, and is in the middle of a divorce. I feel sorry for him, I really do, but it’s hard to care when I’m grinding on the love of my life and I feel his cock writhe under me. I can't believe this is happening. He breaks the kiss, and even as I try and look him in the eye, he evades me, pulling off my shirt in one swift motion to expose the red lacy bra I bought just for him. It was expensive, probably the nicest thing I own, bu