Sunset City Read Online Free PDF Page A

shaved pussy and pinching her nipples, fingernails flashing in the studio light. She looked into the camera and moaned. “$17.95” flashed on the screen and Danielle said, “I’m so-o wet. I need to get fucked.”
    I clicked on another video, with Danielle and Audrey together. Danielle bent at the waist, licking and squeezing Audrey’s tits. They were smaller than Danielle’s and obviously real, with long brown nipples. Danielle’s ass bounced in the foreground, and Audrey wailed, her face contorted. The image cut to the price screen again, and a man’s voice said, “Hot lesbian sluts. Watch these sluts come!” Another clip showed Audrey being fucked from behind, pounded by a guy, her eyes dazed and huge, her nipples erect.
    The videos embarrassed me and I wished I hadn’t watched them. I was sad and turned on, and irritated that I could be aroused by something so tacky. I was mad at myself for watching, for being such a perv. What would I tell Danielle next time I saw her? And then I remembered that she was dead.
    I slammed the laptop shut and tossed it aside. I was crying again. I had to get out of the apartment, be around people. I needed whiskey. Several whiskeys. I texted my boyfriend Michael, I need a drink. Meet me? He wrote back, At Harp, come on .
    I would tell Michael about Danielle, I would cry while he held me and tried to comfort me. And once that happened, I knew it would seem real. I rode my bike to the Harp, a pub housed in a ramshackle bungalow. I pushed through the crowd to the wooden bar. Pockmarks distorted the neon reflection along its length. Michael sat on a stool in the corner, looking at his phone. The bartender brought my whiskey and I took a long sip. I went over to him.
    â€œHey,” I said.
    â€œHi, baby,” he said. He smiled weakly, and I saw that he was very drunk, barely balanced on his stool.
    â€œHow long have you been here?” I asked.
    â€œI don’t know. Let’s get another round.”
    â€œYou get it. I’m going outside,” I said.
    The noise and the air-conditioning and the crowd were too much for me. I could feel tears already burning my eyes. I found an empty picnic table on the patio. This corner near the building was dark, away from the streetlights. Finally Michael stumbled outside, carrying two whiskeys. He sat across from me on the opposite bench and took a cigarette from my pack. I lit it for him. I’d rarely seen him smoke. I lit one for myself, too.
    â€œCharlotte, we have to talk,” he said.
    â€œYeah,” I said. “Something happened.”
    He looked at me strangely. “How’d you know?” he said.
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    I wanted him to see that I was upset and put his arms around me, but he was too drunk, he wasn’t paying attention. He took a deep breath, looked away from me.
    â€œI saw Sonja,” he said.
    â€œSo what.” Sonja was his ex. I knew she worked at the art supply store and lived nearby. I saw her around the neighborhood sometimes, too. I didn’t care about her or whatever gossip she had told him. Danielle was dead. Who gave a fuck about Sonja?
    â€œWe . . .” he started and stopped. “Charlotte, I’m sorry,” he tried again. “You know I love you. I respect you. I know this isn’t fair.”
    â€œWhat isn’t?” I said slowly.
    â€œI slept with her,” he said.
    I thought of Sonja’s long red hair, her pale freckled arms. I’d always thought she was way prettier than me.
    â€œI didn’t plan it,” he said. “It just sort of happened.”
    I couldn’t think properly. I felt stunned, slow. I was glad we were outside in the dark. I didn’t want him to see my face while he was saying these things.
    â€œI ran into her at a show. At Rudyard’s. We got to talking and it was like—like old times, I guess. Charlotte, I’m really sorry.”
    A question