Bambi and The Brothel

November 3, 2016
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Mr. John was a lonely man: age 33, widower of a beautiful woman killed in a freak accident. He spent his days in a middle school, teaching school children geometry. He spent his nights at the local brothel, drinking away his sadness, trying to distract his lonely ways with willing whores. He would go into new rooms each night he went, his drunken talk usually drove the women away after the first night. One friday night, after downing half a bottle of hennessy to his wedding song, Mr. John stumbled up to the whore house in hopes of something to temporarily fill the emptiness he felt within. Each woman occupied their own bedroom, where Pimp Mcbee, the owner of the building and the women, didn’t allow them to leave. Each room filled with women hesitant of Mr. John’s company, until one night, he met Bambi. Bambi was one of the most beautiful women Mr. John had ever laid eyes on. She had long, golden brown hair, with a small frame and most of her height coming from her gorgeous legs. Mr. John grew very fond of Bambi, who secretly relieved her real name to him one late night as Amber. When the sun began to seep through the window’s of Amber’s room, Mr. John slipped out from underneath of her in her slumber and creeped out of the room, making sure to kiss her forehead before he departed. That whole school day Mr. John couldn’t stop fantasizing about Amber: her soft skin, the way her hair was never parted any way in particular, how he could wrap himself around her and fall deeply in love with her scent and demeanor. That night, Mr. John raced to the brothel, anxious to see his newfound love. When he arrived, he was horrified but what he say. Amber laid cuddled in her bed, knees to her chest, letting out small whimpers of cries. He hesitantly walked over to her, his touch causing her to flinch away. She looked up to him with her big brown eyes, one of them enveloped in a deep, nasty blue. Pimp McBee had gotten word of Amber disobeying brothel rules and relinquished his tyrannic behavior on Amber, teaching her that these were the rules and they must be followed. Mr. John begged Amber to leave with him. He had told her that if she wouldn’t, he would do everything in his power to find the pimp and seek his revenge. Amber, fearful of Mr. John’s safety and her own, agreed. That dawn, it wasn’t just Mr. John sneaking out of the house careful not to wake the others, even with their alcohol induced sleep. When they had finally left, they ran and ran, blood raging with love and adrenaline.
Amber sits at the table studying her last culinary exam. She slowly sips her coffee as she reads each word carefully. Mr. John enters the room from behind her, wrapping his arms tightly around her small frame, kissing her forehead ever so sweetly. Soon to follow, their little one stumbles up and mimics his father, wrapping his arms around his mother’s leg, hugging her tightly. Amber puts her studies aside as Mr. John picks up Junior, putting him in his high chair. They all sit, and Amber from the counter, brings them the delicious breakfast she prepared herself. They sit to eat and Mr. John stares at his wife, going unnoticed, thinking how everything happens for a reason, and how lucky he is to be the husband of such an amazing wife and mother.

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