EXTRACT FOR
Group Fuck Bundle
(Annabel Bastione)
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Table of Contents Blow White and the Seven Sluts BONUS Excerpt from Tossing Caesar's Salad Annabel's Other Titles and Author Bio By Annabel Bastione Copyright © 2012 by Annabel Bastione * * * * * The
glass double doors stood before me, friendly looking, as if beckoning me to
come forward and enter. Everyone thought my life had taken a wrong turn thanks
to my habit of going to the bar every night. If not for family intervention I
would probably never have come here. Man, if
only I could get something to drink, I thought as I pushed open one of the
glass doors. I smirked, these were the kind of thoughts that rehab would be trying
to help me get rid of. I could foresee myself either being here a very long
time trying to change, or be out the door as quickly as I came in and off to
the nearest watering hole. The
reception area seemed like a decent enough welcoming place, the only problem I
had with it was that I did not see a single drop of drink around. Not even
those 'samples' they show about different types of alcohol and why it was 'bad
for you'. How disappointing. I
trudged my unwilling feet to the counter. It was nine in the morning and I had
not had a drop to drink yet. Obviously I would feel a little cranky. The
receptionist looked up, her face full of life and devoid of drink. If I were as
sober as her, I would probably throw up at the thought at down another shot. "Ah,
you must be Roxy," she exclaimed in a bright tone not fit for another accursed
Monday morning. "Lemme guess, you're sober." I replied try as hard as
possible to let the sarcasm in my voice shine through in earnest. "Yes I
am, one hundred percent sober. Not a drop of drink in me, I haven't had even
those wee little rum chocolates that I love so much either!" What was wrong with this woman? "You
should try a screwdriver," I said, "a shot of that and you'll be ready to
loosen out, let out and let live!" "Aw,
that's sweet of you, but no thanks. Did you know I once was a raging
alcoholic?" I
snorted, "Oh really? I almost couldn't tell..." "Yes!"
she cheerily continued, "it was a dark time in my life, but now I'm all sobered
up and ready to live life without the help of the bottle!" I
rolled my eyes, "Life's not worth living without it." * * * *
* Tag on
wrist, I unwillingly trudged down the looming hallway. Jeez, it almost seemed
like a hospital or a rehab centre. It was not as if I was sick or anything, I
thought. And the tags, why the tags? "So
that you don't suddenly run out of the meetings and we can't find you," the
receptionist said. Well shit, I thought, if I run out the whole world knows I'll just be heading down to the
local pub! It's not that hard to figure this out! Down
the hallway, I chanced upon a smaller door. I looked up. It said
"Room 7". I
checked my tag, it also said "Room 7". Yep,
this must be it. The
door was heavy, if I drank a little I would probably have the strength to push
it open a little faster, but who cares, it was open. Clearly the room was designed
such that no one outside could look or listen in and vice versa. What went on
in these meetings were intense and deeply personal. Props to their respect for
privacy I guess. Five,
depressed looking, broken people sat in chairs arranged in a small circle.
Classic. They
all looked up, their eyes focusing on me expectantly. There was one chair
empty; I must have been the last one. I
approached the circle and took my seat. No one
said a word yet. I shrugged my shoulders. "So...?
Are you going to introduce yourself or what?" A burly
looking man with a big bushy beard called out to me. I
sighed. "Alright,
I'm Roxy, I love to drink, especially scotch, whiskey and vodka, and when I'm
done here, I'm definitely going out to the nearest bar to clear my head." Now it
was his turn to sigh. "Look,
given half the chance I would probably go down to the bar with you. But I love
my meddling family, that's why I'm here. I'll try my best to stay sober, but it's
hard. By the way, I'm Jacob. "Nice
to meet you, Jacob," everyone chorused in monotone. Dayum, I'm here five minutes and already this place seems dead
beyond measure. We went
round with the introductions, so that I got to know everyone, and everyone got
to know me, especially Jacob who continued to eye me lustfully. I smirked; I
suppose a man is entitled to his dreams, even if they never come true. The
middle-aged balding man with a spare tire was Kevin, turned to the bottle due
to his high pressure job at a consulting firm. There
was a man in priest garb, I thought he was actually a priest, but turns out he
was only a student at Bible College, his name was Kenneth. When the dorm head
found a bottle of wine in his room, they packed his ass down here in double
quick time. I laughed at his introduction, man someone seemed to be
overreacting. Edward,
the local train conductor started his habit out of boredom on those long train
rides with nothing to do, until he got drunk during a train journey and
assaulted a passenger. What a dumbass. Lastly,
there was Erin, the only other girl in the group. She was not the kind of girl
I expected to be here, seemed bright, should have been out there doing good in
her career, making a name for herself. When her mother died, she sadly escaped
from all her problems with a bottle of vodka next to her bed. Her husband found
her passed out the next morning, nearly dead from alcohol poisoning and packed
her ass off here as well to save her life. Well, I suppose she was lucky to
have someone who loves her. Now we
had to talk about our experiences that week, the trials and tribulations of our
journey to fight off alcohol addiction. How stupid was that? I was not even
addicted and I had to be here. Just because I spend my nights at the bar
getting drunk and waking up in the homes of strangers does not mean I am
addicted. Just because I spent my entire month's salary in one night on a
drinking binge does not mean I am addicted. Just because I get cranky if I do
not get my morning glass of scotch does not mean I am addicted. No, I am not
addicted at all. So why am I here? Argh, it was so boring listening to all
their depressing stories! I got
up. I simply could not take any more of these defeatist losers and their
emotional stories about how their life was hard yada yada yada. They did not even seem
to care that I was going to leave, being all engrossed in Kenneth's most recent
spiritual experience and what not. I
headed for the door, what was the point of being here anyway? Wait, I
cast my eyes over the water cooler tank that stood at the side of the room and
then at the plastic cups they had clutched in their hands. I
smiled, a terrific idea had stuck. |