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Happy Friday! How are you?

I’m doing good. NaNoWriMo is around the corner, and I’m almost prepared for it. The operative word is almost. This year the event will be a lot like the first one I did—no office. I had to write with my family around me. I managed to get my 50,000 done then. Here’s hoping it works again!

Keeping things brief this week. Are you ready for my new serialized story?

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Part One


The previous night had been one endless party. My friends took me to club after club, trying hard to ease my mood. We were chasing down perpetual highs and men with the perfect cock. Honestly, all I’d wanted was a quiet corner. Maybe a little tequila. Nothing more. But my besties were insistent despite the challenge. She’d forgotten how difficult it was being the daughter of Ella Landers (better known as El Mercury).

Although being the daughter of a celebrity wasn’t easy, my mother made it a battle. El hadn’t performed in ages, but she behaved as if a slew of fans were on our front lawn. She partied like there was no tomorrow. Somehow, after five marriages, Mom only had two kids. My brother, Ross King, was the offspring of deceased rocker Billy King. Poor guy died in an airplane crash. My dad, Ricky ‘Sky’ Austin, died from an overdose. I never met him.

Thanks to Mom, I’d had a lot of unplanned firsts. I had my first taste of alcohol when I was ten—leftovers from one of her marathon recording sessions in our home studio. Smoked a joint that same year. When I turned twelve, I saw my first naked man. 

Don’t get it twisted. I didn’t have sex. 

He was one of El’s guests. Apparently, Mom didn’t tell the fool she had children, and he was too stupid to watch the entertainment news. Still… Surely he should have known that the box of Tootie Frootie Flakes wasn’t hers.

I stepped into the kitchen, expecting to find my mother. Instead, a shirtless man stood on the other side of the island. He blinked twice, scratched his head, and said, “Who are you?”

Folding my arms, I shook my head. “I live here. What’s your excuse?”

His jaw dropped, and then he made the mistake. Stepped away from the counter and flashed me before reaching for the box of cereal. Lucky for him, the size was just right.

No one would accuse El Mercury of being an award-winning mother.


The unfamiliar male voice snagged my attention, and I rolled onto my back. Slowly, I opened my eyes and took in the muscular marvel standing in my bedroom. I guess I found the right cock after all. For the life of me, I couldn’t recall who the blond was.

“I need to head out. You gonna be okay?”

How sweet. He cares. Most guys didn’t.

“I’ll be fine…um…”

He frowned. “Ben. See you round, Jocelyn.”

Grabbing my throbbing head between my hands, I prayed it wouldn’t be too soon as the front door shut behind him. Empty bottles, like abandoned soldiers, littered my nightstand and dresser. The sweet smell of weed lingered in the air.

How did my mother do it?

The woman would go on weekend binges—drinking her weight in alcohol and doing more pills than a doctor could prescribe. She’d tamed her behavior over the past five years. One day, she stopped the drugs and alcohol. Mom claimed she was trying to get healthy. Yeah, right. The woman was almost sixty years old. A little late to adopt a wholesome lifestyle.

What about me?

I couldn’t keep up the pace.

Staggering out of bed, I shuffled into the bathroom and froze. The shower door opened, and I came face-to-face with a guy with shoulder-length black hair.

“Who the fuck are you?”

He smiled. “How soon we forget?” The man didn’t bother grabbing a towel. He crossed the floor and gave me a kiss. “Last night was fun. Got anything to drink?”

I was speechless as he sauntered out to my bedroom. What the hell did I do?

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