Hot Flashes (Lesbian Mafia Romance) girlxintersex

Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Clementine POV

I awoke with a beating and aching pussy; it seemed as if my entire heart had crept through my body and landed there. As I searched about the room and found no sign of the towering beast, not even her fragrance, I concluded that it was a slightly pleasant and horrible dream.

But when my gaze focused on the dusty center table, just next to the sticky coffee stain, I felt bile rise up through my painful throat. I screamed too much. I screamed all night, in my dream. It must have been a dream, since the checkbook was precisely where I had left it when I went to answer the door. If it was a dream, it seemed too real. Too vivid. My fingers reached down to my pussy, and I winced at the contact; my pussy felt bruised to the core, as if a fist had plowed through it and treated me like a small puppet.

I was causing more problems for myself than I could have imagined. As I stood to walk, my body slammed with the sofa. It certainly couldn't be a dumb wet dream.

From the corner of my eye, I noticed my phone in the wrinkles of the sofa arm and reached for it. I remembered collecting her contact information from the checkbook and wondered if this was simply a foolish dream.

It was my chance to get this book out of my fucking way before my fantasy became true.

I grabbed for the doomed thing and flipped it open; seeing the new rip was a horrible reminder of how badly I wanted to steal but didn't want to face the repercussions if I was caught. I hurriedly dialed her phone and tossed the book back onto the center table.

"Hi, who is this?" Her accent was heavier on the phone than in person, causing jolts of want to seep between my aching thighs.

"Uh? This is Clementine Yuri. Ms. Yuri, your daughter's English teacher."

"Ms. Yuri, I don't expect you to call so soon."

I was perplexed by her assertion because I had just seen her two or three days before. My mind was jumbled with dream-related thoughts—most likely reality. I wished I had the courage—the foolish mouth—to ask if she had come here last night and fisted my pussy.

"What do you mean?"

"I assumed you'd go to school first, then phone me."

I still didn't comprehend it. I could hear some whispers in the background, which appeared to be coming from a group of males discussing. Perhaps Mafia business. In high-status suits, seated around a table with black liquor, discussing narcotics and firearms.

"I'm calling for you to uh." Even though I was staring at the blasted checkbook, I couldn't say a word; I just couldn't concentrate, and something told me I was going to fail at my job.

"Yes, Ms. Yuri." She talked respectfully. She wasn't very courteous last night.

It had to be a dream; perhaps I was fisting my own pussy last night and dreamed that she was doing it to me, since my subconscious couldn't stop thinking about her. I was trying to gather every piece of proof imaginable so that I wouldn't end up stealing her money and being in debt to her for the rest of my life.

"Please let it be a dream."

"Let what be a dream, Ms. Yuri."

"Nothing."

"How did you acquire my number, Ms. Yuri? I never recall handing it to you." The murmurs gradually decrease in intensity.

"Your checkbook," I eventually remark after gazing at it for so long. "It has all your information."

"You mean the checkbook you took $100,000 from?" She inquired innocently. I stared at the book; this was entirely its fault. If it hadn't been in my hands, I wouldn't have stolen from it. Despite the fact that sugar was all over my mouth, it was probably not too late to reject the allegation.