Her hand slid down over her eyes, she felt beyond confused. She was consumed with regrets but also riddled with acceptance of what was again transpiring as it had months before. Months and months she fantasized about another moment with him but was so desperate to convince herself it wasn’t wise to allow it to happen. But obviously she was lousy at convincing herself of anything when it came to Victor Hardway. Her body definitely was incapable of being convinced with exception it was eagerly convinced by him and his actions. She barely heard the quick thanks to room service and the suite door close. She sat with her leg still propped atop the sofa while supporting her weary head with her hand. Then abruptly she was snatched away from her consuming the thoughts. He refused to put a gap between moments, once room service was speedily dealt with he rushed her. His hand grabbed the back of her bundled hair then jerked her head back and within a second his lips devoured hers. Though she. Her pushiness left me feeling dirty, though her logic was clean. I had no attachment to the shack, and the land had shot way up in value. She'd been advised, she told me, that first we needed to go patch the place up. Even though, in all likelihood, any buyer would first-off raze the dump; building anew. A grander shack, built from actual blueprints, not pen scrawls on a cocktail napkin.Daddy was a gamblin' man. Some years we ate a lot of cans of pork-n-beans. Some years, he built his shack. Improved over other good years. He was good with barter. One year when he was in a good mood, the several miles of mud ruts from the tiny road to the shack got expertly graded and graveled. The outhouse got housed inside, frosted with the addition of an indoor shower and hot water. Electric lines replaced the generator.It was a thrilling place for us to go as kids, even if our mother got tired of it pretty quick. It was just the one room, and pretty bare. Mattresses and cushions would've gotten.
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