Coming With The Goth Girl on Halloween

I wore the black silk because it was Halloween.

That's what I told myself when I cinched the belt and called the one guy who'd never treated me like a trophy. Clyde was comfortable. Clyde was safe. He massaged my feet without being asked and didn't flinch when I told him about my exes.

Every man before him was so thrilled about screwing a goth girl that he forgot to actually try. Two minutes of fumbling and a limp apology. Clyde doesn't fumble. Clyde doesn't apologize. And what he does to me on my mother's couch while she's getting high in the next room is something no man has ever come close to.

Then I open my mouth and say the wrong thing. Something shifts behind his eyes, and safe stops being the right word.

I liked it.

Because this is smut.