The Firefly Effect Read Free

don’t mind because it gives me a healthy glow. I shrug and grin at the rosy, bright-eyed girl in the mirror. If I wasn’t aware of the dangers of melanoma, I’d do this more often.
    But I am, so I moisturize like crazy. And since I’m in the mood to pamper myself a bit tonight anyway, I slather my entire body with the new Bronze Goddess lotion my mom got me for my birthday. It smells heavenly, so I spritz on some of the perfume as well. Now I really feel luxurious. And…I don’t know. Antsy, somehow. Like I want to do something impulsive and exciting. Something out of character for me. I almost wish I had somewhere to go or something to do.
    Or some one to do.
    It’s been a long time. Longer than I care to remember.
    Maybe my sister is right, maybe I should get out more. Stop focusing so much on the fantasy world of my novels and open my eyes to the real world for a change. Stop writing about great sex and start having it. Madelyn swears I’m becoming a hermit.
    But sex comes with strings. Hell, even a smile or a flirtatious word can come with strings. Strings and lasting consequences.
    Trust me, I know.
    I opt instead for a glass of wine and the book I was reading earlier on the beach. Instead of getting dressed, I simply unwrap the towel from around me and spread it over the sofa to lie on while the lotion soaks into my skin.
    It feels nice, lying here naked under the soft breeze of the ceiling fan.
    I turn on the TV and flip through the satellite radio channels until I find music to my liking, something with a sexy post-grunge sound. Then I immerse myself once again in the novel. It’s a horror story written by an author I’ve never heard of before, and I’m finding it enthralling.
    Dreamily scanning the pages, I try to make it to the ending while sipping my wine and listening to the music. But eventually my eyelids grow heavy. Alcohol makes me sleepy. It always has.
    Before long, I drift off into a pleasant dream.
     
     
     
    ~ Chapter Two ~
     

     
    Jesus, Mary and Joseph on a bicycle.
    It’s her, all right. Melanie Lane.
    Sprawled out fast asleep on the sofa of my beach house, naked as the day she was born. I have to blink several times to convince myself I'm not hallucinating. Every single perverse fantasy I ever had during those long, crappy years of high school is replaying in my mind like a porn movie on loop. And the subject of those fantasies has suddenly popped up right in front of me like a wish granted by a genie.
    One helluva generous genie, I might add.
    When Leah told me who she’d rented the house out to, I wondered if it was the same girl. Letting it slip that the new tenant was a writer only confirmed it. But I had to see for myself. I couldn’t stand it unless I knew for sure.
    This , however, is something I never expected.
    Wetting my lips, I swallow hard as my hungry eyes devour the sight. A tousled array of dark hair is draped over the arm of the sofa, still damp from a recent washing. Both arms are stretched leisurely above her head, eyes closed, those luscious pink lips parting as she sighs in her sleep. I frown slightly as my mind travels back to all the acerbic insults that originated from that snarky mouth of hers. To the contempt she never even tried to disguise.
    My unscrupulous eyes travel on their own volition down to...
    Oh, heaven help me. Those tits. Those spectacular, glorious tits.
    A million times in the past I'd visualized what those curvy breasts would look like without the barrier of cotton from the sickeningly cutesy graphic tees she used to wear. I mean, come on – Hello Kitty? What, did she think she was six? Give me a break.
    As vivid as my imagination might be, I can honestly say it never even came close to doing them justice. I might have stopped to wonder if they're even real, if I hadn't been around to witness the evolution of her adolescent body. I can still remember the first time I noticed her growth spurt. Beginning of eighth grade.
    She wasn't exactly