Warning: This story series will contain scenes of a sexual nature. If this offends you, please don't continue reading it.
I got the call while working on my thesis.
“You've got to come right over.” . . . “She's gone. I'm there now, it's empty just trash on the floor.” . . . “No the door was open, I walked right in. She's fucking gone.” . . . “I'm going after her. I have to find her.” . . . “What if she's in trouble?”
Debbie waved at me as I jumped into my car. She wore tight jeans and an equally tight sweater. Her hair was tied into a pony tail and she looked ten years younger than she was – she looked my age. When I didn't call over to her she came out to the street.
“Where you going in such a hurry?” I still love that Oklahoman twang from a woman. When I man chops his words like that it just sounds like his mouth is full of shit but when it's a woman's voice I can close my eyes and envision the words coming out from a pretty smile.
“I have to stop Dylan from taking off after Misty. She left.”
“Oh I knew that girl was trouble. Let's go.” She ran around the car and jumped into the passenger seat. She smelled of sandalwood.
“What about Bob?” I asked.
“Honey, it's football season. We won't be seeing him until after the championships.”
He was the high school coach after all.