CHAPTER EIGHT
I arrived at Carly’s compound a week late and apologetic. But apologies were not enough for a hard ass dyke, who didn’t like competition from a man, let alone an artist with a better pedigree than hers.
She started to push me from the house, beating me with a stick from the very moment I stepped in her door Friday night—I’d arrived later than I’d planned. I’m sure she’d been cooling her heels for an hour or two, waiting for me, with her anger growing stronger every second.
“Carly, please! Let me explain!” I yelped as the stick hit my bare legs with a snappy sting. She had me jumping like a jumping bean trying to get away without actually running back to my car.
“Out of my house, b***h! You want to be here, you can go to the stable where you belong!” Carly used the stick’s
