Curved (18 page)

My nonprofit, Homeless United, was booming. All the homeless from across the tri-state area came to us for the best meals in town. We opened up six new branches in New Jersey and New York City, additionally adding and plotting for further grounds in Connecticut and Delaware.

Excited for the future, the two of us thought about having kids.

I never really wanted them, especially when I had been growing up as a girl. I thought the idea of giving birth was scary and too much to handle. The pain medications. And then the hospital stay. Leaving work. How could I factor them in as a working-class girl? Kids were at a luxury. They weren’t for people who had to think about bills.

Even more so, I had read so many articles about how kids costed exorbitant amounts of money. I couldn’t handle the tabulations in my head. Running them in an Excel file, I clearly showed myself several times the ultimate cost of bearing children.

“It’s just too much,” I had always said.

But then…

Joseph came into my life. And I had a new perspective on kids.

I could have more of them than I ever even wanted.

I would go on to adopt three children, plus have two naturally. My children stayed at my side, and we sent them to the best schools possible, private international boarding schools. We nature to see them every weekend, flying over to Switzerland, Spain, and the United Kingdom. I wanted them to have the best experiences possible for human beings to even taste. To show them a world I could never even touch as a child.

“I love having you by my side,” I said to Joseph, one night. His hands groped my cunt lips, splitting apart I legs. He pressed his face to my clit, sucking there, groping behind for my ass.

Sex could not be any better. After childbirth, I was scared of losing sensation. But now I knew—having kids only made me more sensitive and ravished. I wanted Joseph every moment and morning. Together, the two of us were inseparable.

His hands on my breasts, lips by my mouth. Sucking my flesh. A constant force like a vacuum that never left me.

Always there. Always watching.