Genesis of the Wild Child

As the current love of my life, I would have done anything he asked me to do.  Yes, anything.  So that afternoon, when he told me his brother was on leave from the army for the next couple weeks and asked if he could hang out with us that night, of course I agreed.  Little did I know the complete and utter chaos that one simple decision would create.  We met at the same little hole in the wall we always did, with me arriving first as usual.  I was sitting at the bar when I saw Jay walk through the door, followed by some guy in a cowboy hat.  I am telling you at the time I was two drinks in and they didn't look anything alike.  But up they both walked and Jay introduced me to his brother Brad.  He seemed very solemn and respectful, and well, boring.  Great.  It was a good thing that after a few more drinks I'd be providing my own entertainment, so who really cared.  The usual not bad but not great country band was playing.  Jay hated dancing and the only dancing this white girl did was dirty dancing a dozen cheap rum and cokes in.  Now I'm only on my third when Jay says "hey my brother wants to dance, go dance with him," Now I'm thinking this has got to be a joke.  He knows I don't dance, but the next thing I know Brad grabs my hand and we are off to the dance floor.  I was smart enough to bring drink number four with me, hoping this wasn't going to be too much of a disaster.  He was quiet at first, but he was a good dancer.  Before I knew it I was dancing and laughing and actually having a good time.  He accused me of trying to lead, I tripped over his feet at least twice but somehow the drinks kept coming and I stayed on the dance floor. We talked, we flirted.  I stepped on his feet, we danced and laughed.  The next thing I know it's last call, I'm drunk and the guys are walking me out to the car.  The only person who seems off is Jay.  On the drive back to his place he was quiet, which was unusual for him.  I put my hand on his leg and he smiled.  Good. He wasn't really mad.  I squeezed his thigh, hoping to have a little fun once we got back to his house. Let's face it, I was drunk and ready for some action.  His brother could go up to bed and we could have some fun.  We got into the kitchen and he leaned me up against the kitchen table and kissed me. Then he said he had to go take a leak. Great.  And his brother is just standing there looking at me and I'm laughing like a drunk idiot.  The next thing I know Brad's kissing me, and in my head I'm thinking BAD IDEA but my body was just going with it.  The next time I opened my eyes Jay was standing there, looking not mad, but odd.  That's when

things got crazy. Next thing I know I'm naked on the kitchen table and they both have their pants around their ankles.  The sensation of four hands was driving me wild, touching, licking, biting.  I wanted both of them.  Right then, right there on that kitchen table.  Brothers. Go figure.  It was amazing.  Slowly Jay led me up the stairs and I remember starting in his room, then going to Brad's and then I must have fallen asleep.  I woke up to Jay complaining that I hadn't come back.  I apologized and told him I was sorry I must have fallen asleep but he wasn't happy.  He grabbed me and dragged me into his room and was yelling something about me preferring his brother.  I told him he was wrong, but he didn't care.  He pushed me down onto the bed hard and forced himself into me.  Hard.  Muttering about we will see which brother is better or some nonsense.  Angry sex can still be good sex and that was the last thing I remembered before I passed out.  That and the fact that Jay's father would never eat at that table again if he had known what had gone on there that night.

In pleasure, sometimes we find pain...

She was pretty sure she was in trouble.  She was outside on the porch pacing, smoking a cigarette, waiting.  She knew he loved her, she loved him too.  She also liked to see how far she could push him.  There was something inside her that wouldn't allow her to stop.  He loved all of the same crazy things she did, would do anything she asked.  He bought her nice things and took her nice places.  It just didn't seem to be enough for her.  In bed she taught him what it was like to be with a passionate, uninhibited woman and he taught her the most incredible pleasures.  She played games, messed with his head, flirted with other guys in front of him.  She liked to see his reactions.  But this time she just may have gone too far.  He was drunk and according to him, just before he hung up on her, he was on his way here and he was pissed.  She didn't even really know what it was she said that had set him off this time.  She just knew she had already downed a pint of vodka and didn't really give a shit.  Kinda. She was pretty sure his car wasn't running, but he might be able to get a ride-but never did she think an hour later that he would have WALKED all the way to her house.  She sat there smoking what was probably her fourth or fifth cigarette as she saw him round the corner.  Holy shit..it was a good four to five miles to her house from his.  He really must be pissed this time. As he approached her house, she started to feel fear, what if she couldn't talk him down? She wondered just how drunk he was and how hard it would be to get out of this one.  One look at his face and she knew, she was screwed.  He was not only very drunk, if his eyes were any indication, he was in a rage.  He didn't even speak, he just looked at her.  Then with a quickness that shocked her, he grabbed her by the back of the neck and kissed her-HARD.  It was an angry kiss, there was no love there..only pain.  Then he pushed her up against the side of the house and grabbed her even harder.  He needed to reclaim some dominance and this was his way of doing it.  She fought him off kind of half-hearted and that was when something changed.  He tore her shorts and forced his hand between her legs, if only to prove to himself that she wanted him.  But even that was not enough for him.  He was angry, so angry he didn't care who was around, who might be watching.  When she heard him reach for his belt she got nervous, not really sure how far he was going to take this.  He unfastened his belt and jeans and spun her around to face him.  He could see the fear on her face as much as she saw the rage on his.  He continued to grab at her, biting her and then slapped her.  That got her attention.  He stepped back and looked at her, surprise mixing with the alcohol infused anger.  He untied his bandanna and walked towards her.  He looked at her, right into her eyes, seemingly into her soul.  He reached out and touched her face, right where just moments ago he had struck her and ran his knuckles across the red mark gently, muttering something about being sorry, then forced himself inside her.  She was shocked.  Shocked and incredibly turned on, until she realized this wasn't an apology, this was a punishment.  He was rough, it was painful and just as she was starting to get into it, he reached up and wrapped the bandanna around her neck, looked deep into her eyes and said he was sorry.  She started to struggle, but he was stronger and fueled by hurt as he tightened the bandanna and she started to feel faint.  She tried to pull his hands away but he pinned them with his other hand all the while twisting and twisting.  As her head started spinning and she couldn't catch her breath, her last thoughts were hazy...two things ran through her mind.  She wondered if she was about to die and was amazed at the force of pleasure that coursed through her body just before everything faded to black and her knees buckled.

Sunny day at Paragon Bay

She always carried a variety of business cards.  They all had her name on them, because at one time or another, that was who she was.  She never stayed in any one place very long, always getting bored and moving on to the next big thing.  Each move designed to bring bigger and better things, more money and of course the man of her dreams.  In between jobs once again, she had decided on a little "pick me up" vacation down in Florida.  She was okay. It wasn't like her credit cards were all maxed out...yet.  And she deserved it after putting up with that jackass of an ex-boss of hers.  So she used her points to book a flight and checked into the resort for a week of sun, sand and whatever else happened to come along.  She would figure out the whole "make money to pay bills" next week. For now, she was camped out on the resort beachfront with a lounge chair, book and sunglasses.  Nothing a good tan wouldn't fix.  All she needed now was one of the adorable little cabana boys to bring her a drink-because let's face it-it might be 10 am in sunny Florida, but it was 5 o'clock somewhere and she definitely needed some alcohol. Like magic, a handsome way too old to be a cabana boy walked up with her daiquiri.  She nudged her glasses down and eyed him warily, hopefully her thoughts about her credit card already being declined were all in her head.  He looked down at her and smiled, handed her the drink and introduced himself.  "Marcus" the food & beverage director of the resort, just wanted to personally introduce himself...and to remind her that the bar didn't actually open until 11 am...but he had been more than happy to accommodate her request since she had just arrived.  He had an amazing smile.  She was pretty sure he was just shy of laughing at her, but fuck it, she was on vacation-who cared? She accepted the drink and thanked him, took a sip and closed her eyes...Lord that was pure heaven, open her eyes to find he was still standing there, only he did not seem to be even thinking about laughing now.  He had THAT  look.  You know the look. The look that says he's undressing you with his eyes, which God knows wouldn't take much considering what she was wearing.  She had worked as a bartender for the last 5 or so years, it wasn't the first time and it probably wouldn't be the last, but dammit she was on vacation, jobless, and she deserved to have a little fun.  She stuck her tongue out and carefully removed the last little bit of daiquiri from her lips ever so slowly, the whole time looking him right in the eyes, waiting for his reaction.  She had to give it to him, other than a slight widening of his eyes and the lump in his throat, she would have almost thought it had no effect on him whatsoever.  He was good.  This could be fun.  She liked a good game of chase.  It all ended up in the same place. The though of it distracted her just long enough to miss the fact the he had turned and was headed back towards the bar.  She smiled. She would see him again, she was sure of.

They were always watching. That's what they do.

She knew he was watching.  He was always watching.  They all were.  Whether she was out on the porch roof tanning, or breaking in through the back window because she forgot her keys again.  Once she had hit 15, everything changed.  The drinking changed her.  Pathetically shy when she was sober, she was outrageously outgoing after a few drinks.  She realized that all men watched, realized the power she had as a woman child.  The more she drank, the more chances she took, the braver she was, the more attention she needed.  This one was different.  They were neighbors.  He was over 21, always had a lot of his friends over the house.  She wasn't included. Her parents would not have allowed it, and he idolized her father.  Looked up to him.  It was a challenge.  It seemed to be her new challenge.

She had given up on intellectual challenge, schoolwork was boring, she was a National Honor Society geek.  She'd lived in the shadow of her best friend Cori for years.  Cori who had boobs in the fourth grade. Had guys chasing her in middle school in her catholic school uniform.  Not her.  She started high school a painfully shy bookworm, her greatest challenge maintaining her straight A average.  By the end of her freshman year she was spiraling out of control, drinking, smoking and doing pretty much whatever.  She would swing from one extreme to the other.  Had to get that A to let's see who's attention she could get that night.

She knew he was watching.  She made a big deal out of dropping the mail. Ooops.  She'd have to bend over to pick that up.  Slowly exaggerating her movement.  Today would be the day.  He didn't seem to mind her hanging out, they'd smoke together and just chill out, but she couldn't seem to get him to make a move.  It annoyed her.  She knew it was because of her Dad.  He worried that her Dad would be mad at him.  But she also knew that like the rest, they could only take so much.  He was having a party that night.  So she went over that afternoon, they smoked for awhile and he was in the kitchen getting food ready.  She got tired of leaning against the counter, so she hopped up and sat. He looked, then turned back to his food prep.  She was just enough past worrying about rejection at that point, so she reached up and untied her bikini top and pulled it down.  It took a minute, but he turned around again and this timed stopped what he was doing...took one step towards her and said "you are going to get us both in so much trouble" just before he leaned in to kiss her.

You wouldn't believe the ceilings I've seen...

She didn't open her eyes.  Laying there, she started her self check. Her brain was a little foggy, her memory hazy.  Headache....yup, usually a given these days with all the booze she consumed on a daily basis.  Deep breath-oh yea, that wheeze meant she probably smoked two packs of cigarettes the night before. The sinus pain which probably meant she did alot more than just drink the night before.  A careful little stretch and she knew it must have been an interesting night.  Her body was sore, that kind of sore which meant that she probably fell at least once and that the sex had been....well, enthusiastic?  She opened her eyes.....dammit, that was definitely NOT her ceiling.  Obviously another blackout night.  Hopefully she was in friendly territory.  Her contacts were dry, she kept blinking to try and clear her vision.  She carefully rolled over and looked to her right....ok she recognized that face.  Paul.  Tim's long haired friend, the one who thinks he belongs in Hollywood.  Ok, not so bad.  Then she realized there was someone to her left.  Slowly rolling in the other direction she saw Ron? Rick? something like that.  Gross.  He was a little troll like thing that hung out with Paul and Tim and all those guys.  She REALLY must have been fucked up because never in her right mind would she have slept with that one.  She silently made herself that same promise.  She would never get so fucked up that she would end up in a situation like this again.  Not that it would do much good.  Empty promises.  Maybe she could sneak out without anyone noticing.  Kind of tough with one guy on each side of you, fuck it, she'd just find her clothes and go home.  Hopefully her car was here and she wouldn't need one of these two to give her a ride or god forbid have to call someone. Especially considering she had no idea where she was.  The guys were both awake now, Paul getting up to go to the bathroom, not without stopping to check himself out in the mirror, she had slept with him before and knew this odd habit of his.  Yes he was good looking, but the self checking and hair flipping in the mirror made him seem very feminine.  His good looks boosted her self esteem. She must be special if this hot guy wanted to have sex with her.  And she must be good since it had happened on several occasions.  At least that's what she told herself.   That and the fact that he was about 10 years older than she was.  But he always had cocaine and was usually fun to party with.  And the sex was pretty good.  There was always that.  The guys seemed a little uncomfortable, she had no idea what had actually transpired the night before and to be honest,  really didn't want to know.  She just wanted her

clothes and to go home and shower and recover.  These mornings were becoming more frequent, the waking up and not being home, not quite remembering where she was, how she got there, sometimes who she was with....was happening more and more frequently.  Some mornings were worse than others, at least today she actually KNEW the two guys she had gone home with, because that definitely wasn't always the case. And she wasn't in too much pain, which again was a good thing.  She had been lucky so far.  But eventually her luck would run out.  Not wanting to think about all that, she got up, managed to find all of her clothes and since she found out her car was at the bar they were all at the night before, nicely asked the guys if one of them would drop her off.  She really needed a shower.  And maybe some food..and then she would probably head out and start this process all over again. It was a never ending cycle. the depression, the drinking so she could  break out of her shell, which led to the drugs and more drinking and the blackouts and the men and the sex.  Then came the guilt, more depression and more drinking to try and forget it all...someday...maybe someday...things would be different.

When I grow up.....oh alright who the hell am I kidding?????

I wanted to be a Doctor.  Some of you probably know that.  The closest I got was an Emergency Medical Technician, and I was too emotional for that.  Go figure.  I also wanted to be a detective.  I loved Starsky & Hutch as a kid, and Charlie's Angels, CHIPS, etc.  I also wanted to be a professional wrestler.

So now I'm going to write.  I worked in retail for 20 years-stressed me out big time! Turns out, I'm pretty disorganized and really bad with deadlines, who knew? I've also got 10 plus years in the food industry, which for now part time actually suits me well.  It's like a new acting gig every night and the pay depends on how good you are.  That usually works for me.  Again it's the whole schedule thing.  I have to be in at 5, which is actually not a bad thing since I hate mornings-but it's also right about the time my creative juices start flowing.  I walked around my house today, did some silly dancing, pretty much acting like my normal crazy self, and hung out with Connor for awhile.  Took a little nap.  Average Monday stuff for me, because Mondays are my Sundays. I went to the bank in yoga pants, with my Hot Mess Mafia shirt on with a long cardigan on over it.  And cowboy boots.  I'm pretty sure I did look like a hot mess, but I can just chalk it up to being an eccentric author now right?  Anyway....we are going on vacation next week.  Florida.  I'm doing the whole "I'm a famous author doing location research" thing.  The hubs doesn't have a clue.   He just needs a vacation after covering his boss's maternity leave.  I'm going to swim, workout in the fitness center every morning, enjoy my free breakfast and probably do a fair amount of drinking.  You know, try not to overthink or overplan the whole thing...just let each day happen.  Or try anyway...we all know I'm not very good at not having every little tiny detail figured out.

Rambling.....this is turning out to just be a brain dump kind of blog post.  That's okay.  Not every post is going to be gold.  I'm sure some of them will suck.  Not really.  I probably won't post those.  Being a stickler for perfection.  I'm getting a little better at not being so hard on myself.  I've got a good heart.  I learned this week that music helps me write.  Well I've always known.  But certain songs or artists help me get into certain parts of my life.  Between Pandora and SiriusXM, I can pretty much put my mind in whatever year I'm trying to write about.  I never realized that certain songs can bring me right there, that year, how I felt, what I wore....that just a simple song can pull so many detailed memories out of my brain.  I remember buying my first stereo.  It was plastic.  I loved it.  My parents bought me the GREASE soundtrack.  Yea, I know every song by heart.  Yes I stood in front of my bedroom mirror with a hairbrush.  Yes I wanted to be a famous singer too.  I guess I pretty much wanted to be anything except what I was.  As it turns out, what I am is actually pretty amazing.  Nuttier than a Christmas fruitcake, but amazing.  There is not a lot I can't do.  Double edged sword
though, super smart is good when it comes to learning things but super sucks when your mind is NEVER QUIET.  My mind goes so fast I lose my train of thought WHILE I'M TALKING. Does everyone think about what they say before they say it? I've done that for a long time.  Less now, fuck it, again I'm going to stick with the whole I'm insane I can say whatever I want thing...

"The most fascinating person on Facebook"

Nope, not Zuckerberg, who was born just before I graduated high school.  Not Dwayne Johnson (who I love btw) not even like George Takei, who is pretty fucking funny on Facebook.  Nope, yesterday one of the MILLIONS AND MILLIONS of my fans, oh wait, that's the Rock's line.  Anyway one of my less than a million followers told me I was the most fascinating person she knows on Facebook. ON MY REAL LIFE PAGE! Go figure.

 See? It's true....crazy sells.  Trust me if I could sell it I would.  I'll be doing one of those Kickstarter campaigns because the crowd funding one I'm on now seems more geared towards people with illnesses who need money for that kind of thing and Kickstarter is for creative <cough> crazy people like me who have a physical project in mind.  I've started writing the foreward, I may use that in the Kickstarter campaign (as long as my Mom doesn't read it) and I'll be offering ebook, paperback and hardcover copies at different donation levels.  And YES autographs cost extra, because I know you all will be selling that shit on eBay, ok well I know my husband will be trying anyway.  Maybe I'll offer dinner with the author (you buy) because I can think of a few people that would pay to sit at the same table with me.

 I promised to do posts a few times a week, here's number one with more to come.  I'll let everyone know when the Kickstarter thing is up and running and maybe you guys can throw me a dollar or two for pens and shit.  In the mean time, if you see me out on the street say HI! Don't bitch at me about not using your name in my novel, I'll use whatever names I want.  I get around that by writing a FICTIONAL novel, so fuck you haters and people with something to hide.  Get over yourselves.  I got over myself a long time ago.

Spread the word, friend me on Facebook-Kat Riley
Follow me on Twitter @katbriley1
 (yea I know you fuckers stalk my pics)
I'm on Pinterest, Tumbler, Snapchat, LinkedIn (til they give me the boot, cuz you know-they are PROFESSIONAL and probably just about any other social media site out there.  Find me say HI tell me off, tell me a story from 25-30 years that I probably don't remember (if there are pics involved PLEASE INBOX THEM FIRST ROFLMAO)
Offer to finance my book, bribe me not to write about you, I'll take it either way.

It's fall.  Time for the Ginger Queen to go into hibernation (more like a bear than a caterpillar that becomes a butterfly cuz that shit ain't happening unless someone donates money for plastic surgery too)

At least twice a week.  That was my promise. And I intend to keep it.  Until next time...