Listen!' Her voice rose in intensity. 'I'm nobody's blow-up doll; nobody's wanking material. I'm me! I'm real. Fucking real!' I understood, but it was too late. 'I know.' 'I'm sorry. I'm leaving now. Good luck with your story.' I reached for her arm at the very moment she stepped away. A fingertip brushed her sleeve though Jessica could never have known. Determined strides carried her to the door. She snatched her woollen coat from the polished brass hook and, in a manner similarly opposite to her unexpected arrival, she vanished. The laptop had died along with my urge to copulate, though the dull ache in my groin could have suggested otherwise. I nipped upstairs for the charger, plugged it in and, while it rebooted, made myself a strong coffee. Then I sat on her stool and started to read, saw my story through her eyes and quickly released it was a trite pile of crap. However, near the end, I spotted a section in italics, a couple of paragraphs with elements I recognised but which. She knew it was dangerous, she always carried peperspray in her bag and a small pocket knife for protection. But, she wished she had put the two in a special place because knowing her luck, one day she’d need it and it’d be at the bottom of her damned bag under all the makeup and electronics. Three blocks later, Jenna was at home. She peeled off her coat and placed it on the rack by the door. She then slipped off her shoes and socks. She retired to her room and peeled off her clothes along the way. She lived alone, its not like anyone was going to mind her sleeping in the nude. She always did anyhow. Even when she was younger. This was her nightly ritual when working the nightshift, come home take coat and shoes off, strip down to nothing, then crawl in bed on top of the covers and pleasure herself to ease the stress. The morning and afternoon shift was the same. Jenna crawled in bed above the covers and layed back with her legs spread wide. She lifted a skinny finger to her mouth.
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