Through the Hole by Kendall Newman

Life always had a way of being so dull, so droll and otherwise ‘boring’…almost like life was looking for a way to mock, to poke and prod and just give any reason it could to make things seem so tasteless and…blah…
    At the tender age of 29, in a process that repeat itself until the day she died—Marissa Jensen seemed to have everything that most people twice her age were searching for; she had a good job. More importantly, she had a high paying job in which nothing seemed to ever go wrong! She had her own apartment on the Upper East Side, and shit…she had a nice car too. Nothing ‘high performance’ or anything, but an adorable little powder blue car she loved taking with her when she hit the streets and hung out with friends.
    To make matters better? The woman was reminded of a movie called Mean Girls …falling into the category of ‘hot’ without even trying, with her pouty lips just a few shades darker than her naturally tan skin, and supple but perky breasts over a slender and well-built figure. You know the kind, with all the right curves? Heck, she even thought her size seven feet were adorable too, with the index toe on each a little longer than her big toe. Everything about Marissa’s life seemed like it should have been a girl’s dream come true…she even had long flowing locks of curly auburn hair to match soft brown eyes.
    So what was the problem?
    She said it again despite that, “Blah…” her convictions as spoken within the confines of her own mind seemingly deplorable as she reflected while seated on her balcony overlooking a small park.
    The downside to living within the City…everything has a shadow cast over it. She reflected as she took notes of the deep shadows of the towering spires of New York dwarfing this small park.
    Cup of coffee in hand, and bare feet kicked up on the edge of her outdoor recliner, she looked out onto the rest of the world in a reverence that begot the notion ‘you guys are so lucky’, despite her own obvious success.
    The latest of her ‘flings’ was just exiting out of the bedroom as she heard the alarm bell in her bedroom strike six, a slight wince touching her face as she totally forgot about Kyle. “I’m sorry, guess I forgot to shut that off,” she lied with a fake smile, her lips kissing at air as a groggy and mostly naked man lumbered over to her to kiss her lips—which after a quick turn of her head, became her cheek instead.
    Kyle didn’t take the hint, and rubbed a hand slightly through his hair as he went to reach for her cup of coffee.
    “Uhm…thanks but this is mine,” she said flatly, and gestured with a slight wave back towards the kitchen. “Creamer’s in the fridge, sugar is next to the coffee pot.”
    “Thanks babe .” Kyle remarked sourly, and turned around to make himself a cup.
    Alright, so maybe boring was such a strong word, but at twenty nine Marissa imagined she’d be having more than a simple booty call by now—maybe a bit of meaning and purpose in her life with a loving man, as she jumped back and forth between the arms of a whole legion of Mr. Wrongs.
    Marissa’s mother would argue that she spent way too long playing the field, and now she’s only stuck with the incorrect match, and her friends said she was too picky, or point out that her ‘standards’ always filled in bad people who didn’t quite make the cut.
    Take Kyle for instance…
    The two of us on the dance floor. I knew what he wanted…I could ‘feel’ it as he rubbed and ground my thighs between his with each dance step. He told me everything I wanted to hear, plus a few things that I don’t think were physically possible. But when he kissed my neck, it felt like butter…and it was only half as good as the feeling when we hit silk bed sheets.
    My head was swimming in Long Island Iced Teas and vodka, and it felt wonderful; how he touched my tender breasts, the way his teeth felt against my nipple as he tugged and pulled. His breath reeked of