Breanna

The heroine of this story is a villain, a bastard. Black lungs, ruby red nose. Bourbon. Marijuana. Goddess worship. She calls me a liability, that I drink too much and care too little. She is both true and false, we dance with fact and fiction. The truth is somewhere in the middle. The truth is nowhere to be found.

I am in attendance. Church for hustlers and degenerates. She is Benediction in towering heels. The body of Artemis sways before me. A collection plate rains from the sky. Inhale the smoke and rearrange the battlefields in my dreams. All week performing alchemy, all weekend on the front lines. I open my eyes and it is so. Her lips might be the Universe. I pray to the Goddesses that I know.

Breanna stops me as we are about to enter the Chamber.

“This is a Sanctuary.” Breanna says. “You are to behave accordingly.”

It feels like an Initiation. Breanna leads me by the hand down a narrow corridor. My heart flutters with each step. The words that I can say are interrupted by delight, admiration, and astonishment. Breanna performs magic before me, producing images so meticulously designed they create a beautiful illusion that leaves me spellbound.

The land of Monsters and Goddesses is the city of ass and titties. Where the marijuana is sticky and the women have Heavenly bodies. Paradise is regained for those who dare challenge the boundaries set and subvert the rules ready to be broken.

Beneath the shade with a drink in one hand and another in waiting. My eyes are transfixed. Sand slips between her feet, hair swirling in the ocean breeze, ass peeking out of that one piece. Life has been much worse. No complaints here with a view like this.

Black American bombshell, skin like double espresso, no cream, two sugars. Stereoscopic hair, luscious lips, Goddess hips. Penthouse at the Heartbreak Hotel. Breanna bats her lashes and parts those lips—always trust a great ass and a wry smirk. Hands around her waist. Hand around her neck. Between her legs is slippery wet.

Her jaw is unhinged. An all access pass. An open invitation. An offer that I cannot refuse. I say the meaning of life is at the bottom of a glass. I am right. Breanna responds with the meaning of life is inside her pussy. She is better.