Her bedroom furniture was askew, her iMac face down on her desk. Stuff littered the floor. A creaking noise from above made her cower away.And then, m...gically, she was back standing bare-chested in her bedroom, thumbs busy on the iPhone's screen, a grin stretching her red lips, answering Dee Dee's reply about her mom getting high, which of course, she did not. There was no memory of being in a panic, no house coming apart around her, no creepy Mr. Davenport outside.Then she was in her. "No glove, no love." Yeah," he nodded. "I don't know where your bitch's been anyway!" Turn over, faggot," Heather told me while the guy retrieved a condom out of a drawer, digging through pens, rubber bands, matchbooks, and a bunch of other junk."Okay, um..." I made a little face, blushing again as I got on my knees, balancing on the chair.It was a large one, as you can imagine, more like a dentist's chair than anything else, and kind of roomy considering how small I was. I'd pretty much been. More

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