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[anonymous-jones-2025]

Skyline Serenade II: The Fervor Ignites

In the heart of the city, under the shimmering skyline, our protagonist, a woman of unparalleled allure, found herself ensnared in an intense dance with desire. The memory of their previous encounter still lingered, but this time, the passion burned with a ferocity that threatened to consume them both.

"Sweat," he whispered, his voice velvet-smooth and laced with longing. His eyes held a hunger that mirrored her own. She knew what he wanted - to see her drenched, to feel the beads of perspiration trickle down her lithe form. But she was in control, biding her time, waiting for the perfect moment to unleash the storm brewing within.

"You're missing the sex," he groaned, his voice filled with frustration. She couldn't help but smile at his discomfort. She loved the game, the chase, the anticipation that built with each passing moment. But soon enough, she would relent, surrendering to his touch and the primal urge that bound them together.

Their chemistry was electric, a dangerous mix of desire and defiance. He was addicted to her attention, craving the validation only she could provide. Yet, she maintained an air of detachment, feeding off his desperation, fueling their passionate exchanges with a toxic energy that only heightened their connection.

But there was another side to her, a softer, more vulnerable one. A side he longed to see, to understand, and to cherish. Yet, it seemed impossible to reach, hidden behind the walls she'd built to protect herself from the pain of the past.

"How did you make me so crazy?" she asked him, her voice filled with a mix of confusion and desire. He knew the answer - it was their connection, their passion, their shared history that bound them together. But he didn't dare speak the words aloud, fearing the power they held.

As the night wore on, their passion reached a boiling point. The air between them crackled with electricity, each touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both. And as the sun began to rise, casting a golden glow over the city, they surrendered to their desire, giving in to the primal urge that had been building between them since their first encounter under the skyline.

But even as they came together, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within her. She knew that this passion, this intensity, could only last for so long. And when it faded, what would be left? Would they find a way to bridge the chasm that separated them, or would their connection crumble under the weight of their differences? Only time would tell.

As dawn broke over the city, our protagonist found herself lying in the arms of her lover, exhausted but fulfilled. She knew that their relationship was far from perfect, that they were both damaged in their own ways. But she also knew that they shared a connection that went beyond words, a passion that could not be denied.

And as they lay there, wrapped in each other's arms, she couldn't help but wonder if this was the beginning of something beautiful, or the start of another tumultuous chapter in their lives. Only time would tell. But for now, they reveled in the passion that bound them together, enjoying every moment as if it were their last.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Skyline Serenade

In the heart of the bustling metropolis, nestled on the 18th floor of a towering skyscraper, lived a woman named Isabella. The city below was a kaleidoscope of lights and life, yet in her penthouse, she found solitude and anonymity.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky with hues of crimson and gold, Isabella decided to indulge in a moment of personal liberation. She walked towards the floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a panoramic view of the city, the cool glass beneath her bare feet.

She stood there, silhouetted against the twilight sky, her hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of raven waves. She was a vision, a contrast to the urban landscape below - raw, uninhibited, and radiantly beautiful.

Slowly, she began to peel off her clothes, each layer revealing more of her exquisite form. The city watched, oblivious to the spectacle unfolding above them, as Isabella stood naked, bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun.

Her body was a work of art, every curve and crease illuminated by the fading light. She ran her fingers over her skin, caressing herself with an intimacy that was both tantalizing and vulnerable.

The city continued its rhythmic dance below, unaware of the seductive ballet taking place above them. Isabella closed her eyes, lost in the sensations coursing through her body. She felt the cool breeze on her skin, the pulse of the city echoing within her.

She moved gracefully, a modern goddess against the backdrop of the city. The lights twinkled like stars, reflecting off her glistening skin. She was the epitome of freedom and desire, a testament to the raw, unadulterated beauty of the human form.

As she reached her climax, the city seemed to pause, as if in reverence to the spectacle unfolding before them. Then, just as suddenly as it had started, it was over. Isabella opened her eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. She took one last look at the city below, before turning away, leaving the window and her moment of freedom behind.

The city continued its dance, oblivious to the woman who had just bared her soul to them. But for that brief moment, in that high-rise apartment on the 18th floor, Isabella had found a connection with the world beyond her glass walls - a connection that was raw, visceral, and undeniably human

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Moonlit Rendezvous#

In the heart of the city, under the soft glow of the moon, a secret rendezvous was taking place. A woman named Isabella, with hair as dark as midnight and eyes that sparkled like stars, waited anxiously for her mysterious lover.

Suddenly, he appeared from the shadows. His eyes met hers, and a silent understanding passed between them. He wore a tailored suit, his strong jawline framed by stubble, and his deep green eyes held an air of mystery that made Isabella's heart race.

They moved closer, their bodies barely brushing against each other as they walked towards the park bench under the moonlight. The chemistry between them was palpable, and they couldn't resist the urge to embrace. Their lips met in a passionate kiss that seemed to ignite a thousand sparks.

The night grew colder, but Isabella didn't seem to notice as she became lost in the moment. They whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears, their bodies entwined, creating a dance that was as beautiful as it was erotic.

As the moon began to set, they knew their time together was fleeting. But with one last kiss, they promised to meet again under the same moonlight. With heavy hearts, they parted ways, knowing that the memory of this night would stay with them until they met once more.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

The Pole Run: Wichita to Ogden

Every once in a while, a load comes along that reminds a truck driver why they got into the business in the first place.

This was one of those runs.

The assignment looked simple enough on paper: haul a full load of utility poles from Wichita, Kansas to Ogden, Utah. The distance was a whopping 939 miles, crossing some of the most beautiful and demanding terrain in the American West.

The trailer was loaded before sunrise. The utility poles stretched nearly the entire length of the trailer, making for an impressive sight as I completed my pre-trip inspection. Everything was secure, permits were in order, and the weather forecast looked favorable.

With the paperwork signed and the diesel engine rumbling to life, it was time to roll.

The first few hours were easy. Kansas highways stretched endlessly toward the horizon as the sun rose behind the truck. The load rode smoothly, and traffic remained light. Mile after mile disappeared beneath the tires.

Crossing into Colorado, the landscape began to change. Flat farmland slowly gave way to rolling hills and distant mountains. The truck settled into a comfortable rhythm, climbing steadily toward higher elevations.

One thing that surprised me was fuel consumption.

Before leaving Wichita, I had topped off the tanks completely. By carefully managing speed and keeping the engine in its sweet spot, I managed to complete the entire run without stopping for fuel. Over the course of the trip, the truck burned 128.1 gallons of diesel, proving that efficient driving can make a huge difference on long hauls.

The Rockies presented their usual challenge. Long grades tested both truck and driver, but the load remained secure and the engine never missed a beat. Hours turned into an entire day behind the wheel.

Finally, after 16 hours and 3 minutes, the lights of Ogden appeared in the distance.

The delivery yard was expecting me.

As I backed into the designated unloading area, workers immediately began preparing equipment to remove the utility poles. The paperwork was completed quickly, and the customer couldn't have been happier with the on-time delivery.

Then came the best part.

The load paid an incredible $60,127.00.

Every truck driver dreams about a payday like that.

After nearly a thousand miles, a full day on the road, and a successful delivery through multiple states, the reward felt well earned.

As the sun set over the mountains of Utah, I took a moment to appreciate the view. The truck was parked, the load was delivered, and another memorable chapter had been added to the logbook.

Some runs are forgettable.

This was probably one of them. lol

"Long miles, mountain roads, and one massive payday. That's the kind of run truckers talk about for years."

[anonymous-jones-2025]

City Lights, Long Nights, and Unexpected Company

Life ...

After completing the 402-mile delivery and pocketing $1,757.00, I parked the truck for the evening at a busy truck stop on the outskirts of Los Angeles.

The freight was delivered, the paperwork was signed, and for the first time all day, the engine was silent.

Trucking has a way of making a person feel both free and isolated at the same time. One day you're crossing mountain passes and desert highways, and the next you're sitting alone in a parking lot surrounded by hundreds of people you've never met.

As I stepped out of the cab and stretched my legs, I noticed a woman standing near the far end of the lot. She looked tired but confident, carrying herself like someone who had spent plenty of nights around truck stops and travel centers.

Every driver has heard stories about "lot lizards." Some stories are exaggerated, some are true, and most become legends passed around over coffee and CB radios.

I wasn't looking for trouble.

I was looking for conversation.

A few minutes later we found ourselves sitting in the truck stop diner, sharing coffee and swapping stories. She told me about growing up in Southern California, the jobs she'd worked, and how life hadn't always gone according to plan.

I told her about the road.

About watching the sunrise over the Rockies.

About snowstorms in Wyoming.

About crossing endless stretches of Texas with nothing but diesel fuel, country music, and the hum of eighteen wheels beneath me.

Hours passed faster than either of us expected.

For a trucker who spends weeks alone in a cab, simply having someone willing to listen felt refreshing.

Outside, the truck stop continued its endless rhythm. Engines idled. Drivers came and went. Fuel pumps clicked on and off. The highway never slept.

Eventually the coffee cups were empty and the night was growing late.

We walked back toward the parking lot, both knowing that road life rarely allows people to stay in one place for long. Before parting ways, she smiled and wished me safe travels.

I climbed back into the cab feeling surprisingly optimistic.

Sometimes the road gives you freight.

Sometimes it gives you stories.

And every once in a while, it gives you a reminder that even in a profession built around solitude, meaningful connections can still happen in the most unexpected places.

As I pulled the curtains shut and prepared for some much-needed sleep, the lights of Los Angeles glowed in the distance.

Tomorrow would bring another load, another highway, and another chapter in the life of a truck driver.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Fast Wheels and City Lights

The run started in San Francisco, California, with a simple assignment: head south to Los Angeles and pick up a high-paying load.

There was one thing that made this trip different from most.

I wasn't pulling a trailer.

Any truck driver will tell you there's something almost magical about driving a tractor without a load behind it. The truck accelerates quicker, climbs grades easier, and feels lighter in every turn. The miles seem to disappear beneath the tires. Rolling down Interstate 5, the truck felt eager and responsive, making the trip to Los Angeles feel shorter than expected.

By late afternoon, I reached the shipper in Los Angeles and backed into the dock. The load was ready and waiting.

After the paperwork was signed and the trailer was loaded, dispatch sent me on a 402-mile delivery run. The freight wasn't glamorous, but it paid well. The route carried me through Southern California and beyond, with the truck once again settling into the familiar rhythm of hauling a loaded trailer.

The delivery went smoothly. No delays. No accidents. No surprises.

When the final paperwork was signed, the job paid $1,757.00.

Not a bad payday.

That evening, with the truck parked and the logbook closed, I found myself thinking about one of the hardest parts of trucking: the loneliness. Days and sometimes weeks can pass with little more than radio chatter and truck-stop conversations.

At a truck stop outside Los Angeles, I met a woman who was friendly, funny, and willing to spend the evening talking with a road-weary driver. We shared stories, laughed about life on the highway, and enjoyed each other's company for a few hours.

For a trucker who spends most nights alone in a sleeper cab, that kind of connection can mean a lot.

The next morning, it was back to business. The engine fired to life, the coffee was hot, and another load was waiting somewhere down the road. Sometimes the best part of a trucking run isn't the money or the miles. Sometimes it's the unexpected people you meet along the way and the stories that stay with you long after the delivery is complete.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Empty Trailer, Open Road

Every truck driver knows there's something special about rolling down the highway with an empty trailer.

The run started in Salina, Kansas, with dispatch sending me all the way to Los Angeles, California to pick up a high-priority load. There wasn't a pound of freight behind me, just a tractor and an empty trailer.

The difference was noticeable immediately.

Without a heavy load to pull, the truck felt lighter, more responsive, and eager to climb hills that would normally require dropping a gear or two. The steering felt sharper, acceleration came easier, and the miles seemed to disappear beneath the tires. Every trucker knows the feeling—when you're empty, the truck just wants to run.

After crossing several states and watching the scenery change from the plains of Kansas to the deserts of the Southwest and finally the sprawling freeways of Southern California, I arrived in Los Angeles.

The pickup was waiting.

Once the paperwork was signed and the trailer was loaded, I received a short-haul assignment within the city limits. The freight only needed to travel 51 miles, but anyone who has driven in Los Angeles knows that 51 miles can feel much longer when you're navigating traffic.

Still, the delivery went smoothly.

The customer was happy, the paperwork was completed without a hitch, and the load paid an impressive $4,722.

Not a bad day's work.

With the truck parked for the evening and the logbook closed, I headed to a truck stop to relax after the long journey from Kansas. Life on the road can be lonely, and many drivers look for a little conversation after spending days alone in the cab.

That evening I met a friendly woman who spent time talking, sharing stories, and keeping a lonely trucker company. Truck-stop veterans sometimes jokingly refer to such women as "lot lizards," a term that's been part of trucking folklore for decades. Whether the stories are true or exaggerated, every driver has heard them.

As the sun set over Los Angeles and the day's work was finished, I reflected on another successful run. From the wide-open plains of Kansas to the busy streets of Southern California, the job had delivered exactly what every trucker hopes for: safe miles, a good-paying load, and another memorable story from life on the road. Sometimes the best part of trucking isn't the destination—it's the stories collected along the way.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Salina, Kansas

The Shortest Haul of the Week

Most people imagine truck drivers spending days crossing deserts, climbing mountain passes, and chasing sunsets across multiple states. But sometimes the road tells a different story.

This particular run began and ended in Salina, Kansas. No state lines. No overnight stop. No dramatic scenery. Just a truck, a load, and a job that needed to get done.

The morning started quietly. The truck sat idling at the shipper's dock while the driver finished his coffee and looked over the paperwork. It had been one of those lonely weeks where most of the conversations happened over the CB radio and the only company came from the hum of the diesel engine.

The assignment wasn't glamorous: move a load across town and back through the industrial side of Salina. The route covered just 38 miles, but freight doesn't move itself. Every pallet, every box, and every delivery matters to the businesses depending on it.

Traffic was light, and the Kansas sky stretched endlessly overhead. The driver rolled through familiar streets, passing warehouses, grain elevators, and truck stops he'd seen hundreds of times before. There were no exciting detours and no roadside attractions. Just the steady rhythm of the road and the quiet solitude that comes with life behind the wheel.

The trip took 1 hour and 4 minutes from pickup to final delivery. Along the way, the truck used 5.3 gallons of fuel, proving once again that even a short run comes with real operating costs.

By early afternoon, the paperwork was signed, the trailer was empty, and the job was complete.

For all its simplicity, the run paid $494.00.

Not bad for a route that never left town.

As the trucker parked for the day, he reflected on an important lesson learned over years on the road: sometimes the biggest miles aren't the most profitable. Sometimes a short haul, completed safely and on time, is exactly the kind of job that keeps the wheels turning and the bills paid.

The road may have been short, but another successful delivery was added to the logbook. For one lonely trucker rolling through Kansas, that was enough.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Across the Plains

A Hot Run from Garden City to Guymon

The morning started early in Garden City, Kansas, with the sun already climbing over the horizon and a loaded trailer waiting at the dock. Dispatch had assigned a straight forward run south to Guymon, Oklahoma a route that might look simple on a map but still demanded the attention and professionalism that every truck driver brings to the road.

With paperwork completed and the trailer secured, the truck rolled out of Garden City and headed toward the Oklahoma Panhandle. The weather was clear, traffic was light, and the open plains stretched for miles in every direction. It was one of those drives where the horizon seemed endless and the road disappeared into the distance.

The trip covered 108 miles and took 2 hours and 16 minutes from pickup to delivery. While the distance wasn't long, maintaining a safe pace through small towns, construction zones, and changing speed limits kept the driver focused throughout the journey.

Fuel economy for the run came in at 14.9 MPG, a respectable figure for a loaded delivery. Every gallon saved contributes directly to the bottom line, and efficient driving remains one of the most important skills in the trucking industry.

As the truck crossed into Oklahoma and approached Guymon, the landscape shifted from cultivated farmland to wide-open ranch country. The destination warehouse was easy to find, and the unloading process went smoothly. Within a short time, the freight was delivered, paperwork was signed, and another successful job was in the books.

Trip Summary

Garden City, Kansas to Guymon, Oklahoma Total Distance 108 Miles Travel Time 2 Hours 16 Minutes Revenue $546.00

Not every trucking story involves crossing multiple states or driving through the night. Sometimes the most profitable runs are the shorter regional deliveries that keep freight moving efficiently and customers satisfied. This Garden City-to-Guymon haul was exactly that—a professional delivery completed safely, efficiently, and on time, earning $546.00 while helping keep the supply chain rolling across the Great Plains.

"Another load delivered, another customer served, and another stretch of American highway added to the logbook." 🚛💨

[anonymous-jones-2025]

THE KID NOBODY PICKED

I was raised on Oreos, pizza, and melted milkshakes from gas stations that smelled like cigarettes and burnt coffee.

My mother smoked crack with men she barely remembered the next morning. My father only showed up when he was drunk enough to feel guilty—and even then, it never lasted long. Mostly, I remember waiting for him.

Waiting became a habit.

My grandmother got stuck raising me in a house where the television stayed louder than the conversations. She loved her Pabst Blue Ribbon more than she ever loved being a grandmother. I don’t even think she hated me. I think I was just another thing life handed her that she didn’t ask for.

My uncle had money. Real money. Big house, polished shoes, expensive watches. The kind of guy who shakes your hand without ever actually touching you. He never shared his time, never shared his world, never looked at me long enough to see I was drowning.

As a teenager, I ran with the wrong people because at least they noticed me.

I tried drugs. Tried acting hard. Tried pretending I belonged somewhere. Truth is—I was never built for any of it. I wanted connection more than chaos, but sometimes lonely people mistake the two.

If I could go back, I wouldn’t follow anybody.

I’d become the kind of person people followed instead.

But when you grow up abandoned long enough, attention starts feeling like love. Even bad attention. Even temporary attention.

Especially temporary attention.

Now I’m older and somehow still carrying that same kid around inside me. The one trying too hard to fit in. The one checking phones that never ring. The one who mistakes silence for proof that nobody cares.

Relationships never came easy for me. Intimacy feels complicated when your whole life trained you to expect people to leave. So instead, I learned how to be alone. Too alone.

There are nights where the only thing touching me is the glow from a television screen and my own thoughts turning against me.

That’s the part nobody talks about.

The shame.

The isolation.

The feeling that maybe something inside you got damaged too early to ever fully fix.

But I’m still here.

Still breathing.

Still trying to become someone worth remembering.

And maybe that counts for something.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

THE LAST TIME

The apartment felt different.

Too quiet.

Like something had already ended—

even though no one had said it yet.

AJ leaned against the wall, watching her.

E.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Just there—

like she was deciding something he couldn’t see.

“You’ve been gone,” she said finally.

AJ let out a breath.

“I’ve been working.”

E shook her head slightly.

“That’s not what I meant.”

Silence stretched between them.

Because they both knew what she meant.

Not gone from the city.

Gone from her.

AJ stepped closer.

“You don’t get to say that,” he said.

Her eyes met his.

Sharp.

“I don’t?” she asked.

A beat.

“You don’t even know who you are when you’re like this.”

That hit.

Because it was true.

AJ ran a hand through his hair.

“I’m doing what I have to do.”

E let out a quiet laugh—

not amused.

“That’s what everyone says.”

She stepped closer now.

Close enough that he could feel her again—

the heat, the pull, the thing that had always been there between them.

“And what does it get you?” she asked softly.

AJ didn’t answer.

Because he didn’t know.

Not anymore.

E’s hand moved to his chest—

slow—

deliberate—

fingertips pressing just enough to ground him.

“You don’t even feel it anymore,” she said.

Her voice lower now.

“Not the way you used to.”

AJ caught her wrist.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Act like this is over.”

E held his gaze.

“It is.”

That should have been the end.

It wasn’t.

Because neither of them moved.

Neither of them stepped away.

The space between them tightened—

not breaking—

pulling.

E exhaled slowly.

“Don’t try to fix it,” she said.

AJ stepped closer anyway.

“Maybe I don’t want to fix it.”

Her breath caught—just slightly.

“Then what do you want?”

AJ didn’t hesitate.

“You.”

That was the truth.

Not the whole truth—

but enough.

E closed her eyes for a second.

Like she was fighting it.

Like she already knew where this ended.

“Not like this,” she said.

AJ leaned in closer.

“Then tell me how.”

E looked at him again—

really looked—

and whatever she saw—

it changed something.

“Just this once,” she said quietly.

“Don’t lie to me.”

AJ nodded.

And for a moment—

everything else disappeared again.

No M.

No city.

No past.

Just them.

The way it used to feel.

Not rushed.

Not desperate.

Intentional.

Like they both knew this wasn’t something to hold onto—

just something to feel before it was gone.

7

Later—

they didn’t talk about it.

Didn’t try to define it.

Because putting words to it—

would make it real.

And real—

meant ending.

AJ sat there, breathing steady.

E stood near the window again.

Like she always did.

Distance already returning.

“You don’t get forever,” she said quietly.

AJ didn’t respond.

Because he felt it now.

The truth of it.

This wasn’t something they could go back to.

This wasn’t something that could last.

It was something that burned—

and ended.

And somewhere in that moment—

AJ understood something he hadn’t before.

Not everything worth wanting—

was meant to stay.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

The drive back to Los Angeles gave AJ too much time to think.

Twenty-nine hours of highway.

Endless lines stretching forward.

No distractions.

No noise—except the engine and whatever was left inside his head.

He drove until he couldn’t anymore.

Pulled off at a rest stop somewhere between nowhere and somewhere else.

Killed the engine.

Silence.

The kind that presses in on you.

AJ leaned the seat back.

Closed his eyes.

And immediately—

she was there.

E.

Not the version standing in windows or speaking in half-truths.

The real one.

The one he used to know.

He could almost feel her again—

the way she moved against him, like she already understood where he was going before he did.

The way her skin felt under his hands—

warm… alive… real.

It came back in pieces.

Late nights.

Long conversations that stretched into something deeper—

where words mattered less than the connection behind them.

E had seen him.

Not the version he showed the world—

the one underneath.

And she didn’t look away.

That was the part he couldn’t shake.

She didn’t try to fix him.

Didn’t try to change him.

She just… accepted him.

Every broken edge.

Every bad decision.

Every piece he didn’t even want to admit was there.

And somehow—

that made everything feel possible.

AJ exhaled slowly.

Because it hadn’t just been the physical connection.

Yeah… that was there.

Strong.

Intense.

The kind that pulled you in and didn’t let go.

But it was more than that.

It was the way they moved together—

not just bodies—

but minds.

In sync.

Like they were chasing the same thing—

even if neither of them knew what it was yet.

Those were the moments he held onto.

The ones where everything else disappeared.

No past.

No future.

Just now.

And then—

it was gone.

AJ’s jaw tightened.

Because even now—

he couldn’t fully understand how it fell apart.

One minute they were building something—

talking about what came next—

what they could be—

and the next—

nothing.

No warning.

No explanation.

Just silence.

And that silence…

stayed.

Even now.

Even here.

Months later—

it still hit the same way.

Like something had been ripped out—

not clean—

not quick—

but torn away.

Leaving everything else exposed.

AJ shifted in the seat.

Trying to shake it off.

But it didn’t go anywhere.

Because no matter how far he drove—

no matter how deep he went into everything else—

that part of him was still there.

Still waiting.

Still unfinished.

“I should let it go,” he muttered under his breath.

He knew that.

Knew he had to focus on what was in front of him now.

What M had put in motion.

What E had become.

What he was becoming.

But knowing something—

and feeling it—

weren’t the same thing.

Because what he felt—

was her.

Still.

Always.

Sleep started to pull at him.

Slow.

Heavy.

And as he drifted—

his last thought wasn’t about the city.

Or M.

Or what came next.

It was simple.

Come back.

Not spoken.

Not loud.

Just there.

A quiet thought he couldn’t let go of.

Because no matter how far he went—

no matter what he became—

some part of him still believed—they weren’t finished.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

AJ And Felicity

AJ slid onto the barstool with a heavy sigh, signaling the bartender for a whiskey neat. The dim lighting and low murmur of conversation was exactly what he needed right now—a chance to escape the chaos of his life, even if only for a little while.

The past few months had been rough—harder than anything AJ had ever faced before. Between the constant pressure of keeping up appearances in Hollywood and his ongoing battle with addiction, it felt like everything was slowly falling apart at the seams. And then there was the added complication of E and L…

AJ took a long sip of his drink as memories flashed through his mind unbidden—images of E's blonde hair tangled in L's dark curls as they kissed passionately without him there. AJ felt the jealousy again starting to hit him hard. It shouldn't have bothered him as much as it did considering their unconventional relationship dynamic, but seeing them together like that had stirred up feelings AJ wasn't quite ready to confront.

Shaking off those thoughts with another swig of whiskey, AJ glanced around the bar idly—trying to lose himself in people-watching instead. That's when he spotted her.

AJ had been nursing his beer at the bar for over an hour when she walked in. She was stunning—long blonde hair, blue eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a body that looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves. Her tight black dress hugged every curve in all the right places.

As soon as their eyes met, there was an undeniable spark of attraction between them. AJ felt his heart race as he watched her saunter over to him with a confident smile on her full lips.

Hey there, she purred, sliding onto the stool next to him. I'm Felicity.

AJ, he replied, trying to keep his cool even as his pulse quickened, cock already stirring under his jeans.

I couldn't help but notice you from across the room, Felicity said, leaning in close so he could catch a whiff of her intoxicating perfume—musky vanilla that made him think of sweat-slicked skin. You're cute. Troubled, but cute.

AJ grinned, the whiskey loosening his edges. Thanks. You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself. What makes you think troubled?

Her laugh was throaty, sexy, sending shivers straight to his balls. I have a feeling we're going to get along just fine. She reached out and traced one perfectly manicured finger along AJ's forearm, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Tell me, AJ… do you like to play rough? Pound the shit out of me, will you?

AJ gripped his glass tighter, the burn of jealousy from E and L morphing into feral need. Rough? he growled, voice thick. Baby, I'll fuck you raw till you scream my name.

They stumbled into her loft five minutes later, lips crashing before the door slammed shut. Felicity shoved him against the wall, her dress hiking up as she ground her hips into his rock-hard bulge. Show me, she demanded, nails raking his neck.

AJ spun her, ripping the dress down to bare her perfect tits—pink nipples hard and begging. He sucked one into his mouth, biting hard enough to make her gasp, while his hand dove between her thighs. Soaked. No panties. Fucking slut, he muttered, fingers plunging into her dripping cunt, curling to hit that spot that made her buck.

Yes—harder! Felicity moaned, yanking his belt free. His thick cock sprang out, veined and throbbing. She dropped to her knees, swallowing him deep, gagging as he fucked her throat. Saliva dripped down her chin, eyes watering with filthy bliss.

AJ hauled her up, bent her over the couch, and slammed home—no condom, just raw, skin-slapping heat. Her pussy clenched like a vice, walls milking him as he pounded mercilessly, balls smacking her clit. Take it, you dirty whore, he snarled, spanking her ass red. She came screaming, squirting down his thighs, but he didn't stop—flipping her, pinning her legs back, drilling deeper till he exploded, flooding her with hot cum that leaked out in creamy rivulets.

Panting, tangled in sheets later, Felicity traced his chest. Come back tomorrow. Bring the drugs next time—we'll really play.

AJ smirked, the high of her body chasing away E and L's ghosts. For now.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

PART XXI · THROUGH THE GLASS

AJ wasn’t supposed to be there.

He knew that.

But he didn’t move.

The window gave him just enough—

just enough to see without being seen.

Inside—

L and M stood too close.

Not talking.

Not pretending.

Just… there.

And then it shifted.

Slow at first.

M reached for her—

not forceful—

but certain.

L didn’t pull away.

Didn’t hesitate.

And when they moved together—

it wasn’t soft.

It wasn’t uncertain.

It was hunger.

Real.

Unfiltered.

AJ felt it hit him immediately.

Sharp.

His breath slowed—

but his body didn’t.

Because what he was seeing—

wasn’t just attraction.

It was power.

The kind that didn’t ask permission.

M’s hand traced along L’s side—

pulling her closer—

until there was no space left between them.

L’s head tilted back slightly—

just enough—

just long enough—

for AJ to feel something twist inside him.

Not jealousy.

Something darker.

Something he didn’t want to name.

Because it wasn’t just about them.

It was about what they represented.

What he had lost.

What he had chosen instead.

AJ leaned closer to the glass—

without realizing it.

Like he needed to see more.

To understand it.

To feel it.

Inside—

the moment deepened.

Slower now.

Closer.

More deliberate.

Like neither of them were rushing it—

because they didn’t have to.

Because they owned it.

AJ exhaled slowly—

trying to steady himself—

but it didn’t help.

Because this wasn’t something you could step away from once you felt it.

This was something that stayed.

Burned.

L shifted slightly—

turning just enough—

and for a second—

AJ thought she might see him.

Might catch him there—

watching—

too close—

too involved—

But she didn’t.

Or if she did—

she didn’t let it show.

And somehow—

that made it worse.

Because it meant—

he didn’t matter in that moment.

Not to them.

Not anymore.

AJ stepped back finally.

Slow.

Like pulling himself out of something deeper than he expected.

The city noise rushed back in.

Cars.

Voices.

Everything he’d tuned out—

all at once.

He ran a hand through his hair—

trying to shake it off—

but it stayed with him.

That image.

That feeling.

That understanding—

that the world kept moving—

with or without him.

And for the first time—

he wasn’t sure where he stood in it anymore.

He turned—

and walked away.

But he didn’t leave it behind.

Not really.

Because something in that moment—

followed him and it wasn’t done with him yet.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

THE ARRANGEMENT

It didn’t start the way AJ thought it did.

Not with the phone calls.

Not with the city.

Not even with him.

It started years earlier—

in a place like this.

An alley that smelled like heat and bad decisions.

E stood alone.

Younger.

But not softer.

Her hands steady—

even if her heart wasn’t.

She knew why she was there.

Money.

Not for anything glamorous.

Not for dreams.

For survival.

The sound came first.

Engine low.

Controlled.

Then the car.

Black.

Always black.

The window rolled down slowly—

like it didn’t need to rush.

M sat inside.

Same as now.

Calm.

Still.

Like the world moved for him—

not the other way around.

“Get in,” he said.

No greeting.

No explanation.

E didn’t hesitate.

Because hesitation didn’t belong in moments like this.

She slid into the seat beside him.

The door shut.

And just like that—

everything behind her was gone.

The car moved.

The city swallowed them.

“You need money,” M said.

Not a question.

E nodded.

“I do.”

M glanced at her—

not long—

but long enough.

“You’re willing to work for it.”

Another statement.

Another truth.

E met his eyes this time.

“Yes.”

That was all he needed.

M leaned back slightly.

“I have something that requires… presence,” he said.

E didn’t speak.

Because she understood what that meant.

Not details.

But enough.

“People talk,” M continued. “When they feel comfortable.”

A pause.

“When they feel seen.”

His gaze shifted back to her.

“And sometimes… when they feel wanted.”

The air in the car changed.

Not heavier.

Sharper.

E felt it.

That edge.

That line she was about to cross—

before she even knew where it led.

“What do I have to do?” she asked.

M reached out—

not fast—

not forceful—

just enough to tilt her chin slightly toward him.

“Whatever it takes.”

Not cruel.

Not loud.

Certain.

E held his gaze.

And something inside her—

locked into place.

Because this wasn’t a question anymore.

It was a direction.

And she had already chosen it—

before she got in the car.

6

The club was worse.

Not louder.

Just… realer.

The kind of place where no one pretended to be anything else.

E stepped inside—

dress tight—

eyes steady—

heart controlled.

She felt it immediately.

The attention.

The weight of it.

Eyes on her.

Watching.

Measuring.

Exactly the way M had.

And suddenly—

she understood.

This wasn’t about the room.

It was about her.

What she could do in it.

What she was willing to become.

M’s voice echoed in her head—

Whatever it takes.

And E—

E didn’t step back.

She stepped forward.

Because that was the moment—

everything changed.

Not all at once.

Not in some dramatic break.

But quietly.

Completely.

She didn’t belong to that alley anymore.

Didn’t belong to anything she was before.

And somewhere in that shift—

something inside her stopped asking questions.

And started surviving.

Years later—

AJ stood in that same world—

thinking he had chosen it.

Not realizing—

it had already chosen E long before him.

And now—

it was choosing him too.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

HARDER STUFF

R didn’t teach.

Not in any way AJ recognized.

He watched.

That was it.

Carefully.

Quietly.

The way you study something—

not to understand it…

but to see what it’s made of.

AJ had been back to the studio four times.

Each visit—

shorter words.

Longer silences.

R said less.

Observed more.

And every time AJ left—

he felt it.

Like he’d passed something.

Or failed it.

He couldn’t always tell which.

The person R introduced him to—

wasn’t what he expected.

Not a man.

Not someone loud.

Not someone threatening.

That would’ve made it easier.

She was maybe thirty.

Hair pulled back.

Reading glasses pushed up on her head—

more habit than need.

A legal pad in front of her—

covered in tight handwriting that looked like code.

R called her V.

Just that.

V looked at AJ the way someone looks at numbers.

Not cold.

Not warm.

Precise.

“You’re greener than he said,” she told R.

R didn’t respond.

Which meant she was right.

Cahuenga · The kind of studio where deals happened before the music ever did

“Logistics,” R said.

That was the word.

Clean.

Professional.

The kind of word that didn’t bleed.

AJ was starting to understand—

the cleaner the word—

the worse the truth underneath it.

V moved things.

Quietly.

Through clubs.

Through back rooms.

Through people who didn’t ask questions—

because they didn’t want answers.

And now—

AJ was part of that.

“You’ve got a face people trust,” V said, still writing.

“That’s rare.”

A pause.

“Most people in this world make you nervous just standing next to them.”

AJ didn’t smile.

Didn’t respond.

Because he didn’t know if that was a compliment—

or a warning.

That night—

AJ told E everything.

Not because he had to.

Because she was the only one left—

who would tell him what it actually meant.

E didn’t interrupt.

Didn’t react.

Just listened.

Still.

Too still.

When he finished—

she stayed quiet for a long time.

Then stood.

Walked to the window.

The city stretched out in front of her—

alive in all the wrong ways.

“You know what this world does,” she said.

AJ nodded.

“I do.”

E turned.

“No,” she said quietly.

“You know what it looks like.”

A beat.

“I know what it feels like.”

That landed harder.

Because she wasn’t warning him.

She was remembering.

AJ waited.

Expected her to say it.

Walk away.

Stop now.

She didn’t.

Instead—

“If you’re going to do this…”

She sat back down.

Eyes locked on him.

“You have to stop feeling it.”

AJ frowned.

“Feeling what?”

E didn’t hesitate.

“Everything.”

“The hesitation.”

“The guilt.”

“The part of you that still wonders if you’re a good person.”

Silence.

“That part gets people killed,” she said.

A pause.

“Or worse.”

AJ leaned back.

“You’re talking like that’s a switch.”

E held his gaze.

“It is.”

“And you flip it once—”

She shook her head.

“No.”

“You flip it every day.”

“Until one day…”

Her voice dropped slightly.

“…you don’t have to anymore.”

AJ sat with that.

Because there was no softness in it.

No apology.

Just truth.

This wasn’t the life he imagined anymore.

Not the version built on music and late nights and possibility.

This was something else.

Something that took.

Piece by piece.

Until you didn’t notice what was missing.

He thought about L.

Of course he did.

He always did—

when things got too heavy.

Not because he wanted her back.

Because she still had something.

Something he could feel slipping out of his own hands.

Something real.

Something untouched.

He wondered if she knew.

Wondered if someone else was already showing her—

what this world really was.

Because music had its own version of it.

Cleaner.

But just as hungry.

AJ called M the next morning.

Early.

Before the city fully woke up.

“I’ll do it,” AJ said.

No hesitation.

No questions.

M didn’t react.

Didn’t congratulate him.

Didn’t need to.

“Good,” he said.

Just one word.

Like it had already been decided.

Like AJ had never really had another choice.

And maybe—

he hadn’t.

Maybe the path was always there.

Waiting.

Since the first call.

Since the static.

Since the line.

[anonymous-jones-2025]

Hunger Like This, This Good - Never Stops

AJ gripped the glass tighter than he needed to.

The room was loud—but not loud enough to drown out the feeling crawling under his skin.

E was already watching him.

She had that look again.

The one that didn’t ask. Didn’t suggest.

Took.

“You’re thinking too much,” she said, stepping into his space.

AJ let out a slow breath.

“Not enough,” he replied.

E smiled.

Sharp.

“Then stop.”

Her hand found his arm—slow, deliberate—fingertips dragging just enough to leave a trace behind.

Not soft.

Intentional.

L was across the room.

Watching.

Not surprised.

Not unsure.

Something else.

Like she already knew where this was going— and wasn’t stepping away.

AJ stood.

The noise of the room dropped away— or maybe he just stopped hearing it.

E leaned in close.

“You still want this?” she asked.

Her voice low.

Close enough that he felt it more than heard it.

AJ didn’t answer right away.

Because the truth wasn’t simple anymore.

It wasn’t just about her.

Or L.

Or even the moment.

It was everything.

And he was already in too deep to pretend otherwise.

“Yeah,” he said finally.

That was all it took.

E grabbed his shirt—not rough, but firm—and pulled him forward.

The space between them disappeared.

L moved closer too.

No hesitation.

No second thought.

Just presence.

Real.

The apartment door barely had time to close before everything collided.

Not rushed— but not slow either.

Like something that had been building finally let go.

Hands finding skin. Breath catching. Movement without thinking.

E pressed him back against the wall— not controlling— but not giving ground either.

L was there too— closer now— her presence different— steady— grounding— but just as real.

AJ felt it—

the shift.

Not just desire.

Something deeper.

Something that pulled all three of them into the same moment— the same rhythm— the same intensity.

No words.

Just heat. Just connection. Just the kind of closeness that blurs everything else out.

Time slipped.

The city outside kept moving— but inside— everything narrowed.

To them.

To now.

To something none of them were going to walk away from the same.

Later—

the room settled into something quieter.

Not calm.

Just… after.

AJ leaned back— breathing steady— trying to hold onto whatever that was.

E stood near the window again.

Like she always did.

Untouchable—even when she wasn’t.

L sat close— not distant— but different.

More aware now.

AJ looked between them.

And for a moment—

he didn’t think about M.

Didn’t think about R.

Didn’t think about anything waiting outside that room.

Because whatever this was—

it felt real.

Even if it couldn’t last.