Is Fine Enough?

By Rebecca Milton

Everything was fine. He was fine. She was fine.Life was just fine.But, was fine enough and, what is more important, could fine ever change? Thinking change was not possible, Rebecca sets out to find a life that is more than fine, leaving him behind. She sets her eyes to the west, sticks out her thumb and looks to find something knew. But, is what she’s running from what she wants to come back to?

Now please don't expect some table-thumping blockbuster that will end up unread and gathering dust on your virtual bookshelf – this is a sizzling erotic short story that will have you flipping over the pages in feverish anticipation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AmorBooks.com
• Release date: Jan 13, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005227425

Rebecca Milton

Rebecca Milton writes sizzling erotica and romance for the thinking person. On her free time she enjoys taking her Alaskan Malamute for long, long walks. He enjoys it too.

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Is Fine Enough?

by

Rebecca Milton

Copyright 2022 Rebecca Milton

Distributed by Smashwords

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Disclaimer: The material in this book is for mature audiences only and contains graphic sexual content and is intended for those over the age of 18 only.

***

The rural road that connected to the interstate was long and dull. On one side, the Granville’s farm; thousand of acres of alfalfa. On the other side, woods, thick, deep, rolling roaming. She had spent many years in those woods with friends and lovers. Drinking, dancing, smoking and fucking. Now, as she stepped onto the road, looking down its barrel, the woods held no pull, no interests, no mystery. She looked back once at the house and there he stood on the porch. She wished she could paint him this way;

A beer gut, stained, white wife beater, a glass of cheap whiskey in his hand and a cigarette hanging from his chapped lip. His hair a mess of grease and dirt, his eyes red and dripping rheum. He would be in jeans, torn at the knees, torn at the ass, hanging on by the dirt that clung to them. Surely they would disintegrate if he ever got the notion to wash them. He would smile and the teeth that were left were a checkerboard of black and yellow. He would spit the brown juice of tobacco and it would drip down his chin, onto the shirt, joining the rest of the stains that were the mosaic of his life.

She wished that was the case. But, it wasn’t.

He was sandy haired with a kind smile. His clothes were neat and clean, his teeth were white. He