Truly Mine Read Free Page A

Returning my fingers to her begging pussy, I used my thumb to rub small circles against her swollen clit, keeping her tightly wound up. “You’re coming home with me, Truly. I need to have you all night.”
    Truly placed her hands on either side of my face. I knew she wanted to, but I also knew that she wasn’t the same girl who had once done exactly as I told her.
     
    That was the last time I saw Truly. It was twelve years ago, and I can still remember every fucking detail.

pronunciation trep-i-dey-shuhn
    (n.) a feeling of fear about something that could happen

Truly
    G etting older is such a mindfuck.
    I’m forty today, but mentally and emotionally, I feel just the same as I did the day I turned thirty. Shit, for that matter, I honestly don’t feel much different than I did when I was twenty. Smarter and stronger, for sure. But I still feel young. I certainly don’t look as old as I envisioned a forty-year-old to look. I dare say that I look damn good for my age.
    I might finally buy into that theory that age is just a number.
    To celebrate my birthday, I planned a night out on the town with my friends Lissa and Marie. Not a big production. Just a night out with the only two people that I give a flying fuck about. We were supposed to dress up in short skirts and high heels, go to dinner, and then head to a club full of beautiful people to make a few memories.
    My attire for the evening is now sitting in my closet, waiting to be worn. Marie had designed the form-fitting pale-pink tunic top with a strap over one shoulder. The fabric would have shimmered and shone beautifully as the lights in the club danced around me. I would have paired it with a black leather mini and black stockings. I’d requested the most gorgeous pair of Christian Louboutin leather pumps to be sent over last week. A few diamonds would have finished it off, and I would have made forty my bitch.
    But that’s not at all what I’ll be doing tonight. I’ve had to rearrange my schedule to deal with a ghost from my past, so to speak. And that leaves me spending my birthday in the town where I grew up. Only my mother could time this so well.
    Passing the Welcome to Fallport sign, my stomach lurches into somersaults. In an attempt to settle my nerves, I grip the steering wheel tight and take a deep breath.
    After all these years, how can I still be so affected?
    Get a grip, Tru. You’ve got this. Handle this shit, and get out of here as fast as you can.
    Not five minutes in this town, and I’m already talking to myself.
    Perfect.
    Everything looks exactly the same. Fallport is the same sleepy little town it was when I left. The bar where my mother would get drunk every night now has a new name, Perdue’s Grill, and sits in an otherwise empty field. The buildings are familiar but in an odd way. They are worn-down and sad. The old lumberyard appears to be full of the same old wood planks that lined the fences all those years ago. Across the street is the big church that’s really not so big after all.
    I make a right, entering the business district of town. It’s the size of a mini strip mall. On one side of the road is a small produce market, several abandoned shops, a bar, and the tiniest of libraries.
    For shame. Every town should have a beautiful grandiose library.
    On the opposite side are a pharmacy, grocery store, and a savings and loan financial institution. The grocery store is the only new building I’ve seen so far.
    I welcome the foreign feeling of a town that should be so familiar. Once upon a time, I thought I would never make it out of here. At best, I thought I would be the waitress at the local diner, knowing everyone’s orders by heart. Or if I were really lucky, the receptionist at Dr. Bord’s office.
    If you had asked my classmates where I would be at forty, they would have surely predicted that I would be a divorcée with four or five kids, few with the same father, and living in a trailer park with a sloppy, fat unemployed