12 Sentence Sunday (12 sentences from “An Ode for Orchids”

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Cicely was there as she rested next to Vincent Mann on sweat-dampened Egyptian cotton sheets.

Heady.

That was the feeling Cicely felt as Vincent Mann sexed her with animalistic passion.

Harlot.

Cicely’s promiscuity and pilfering of seeds that rightly belonged to Vincent Mann’s wife earned her that moniker. She gave Vincent Mann the best of her loving because she wanted to own every ounce of him.

Harlot.

Cicely wore that name. She earned that name.

“He couldn’t possibly stay with his wife much longer,” Cicely whispered to herself as she closed her eyes. “Especially not now.”

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