d6 . bill blake

"Oi cunt get back here!"

Ah shit. Here we go again.

I dash around the nearest corner, pulling at my trousers as I hope jump and skip over the edge of a bench. Morris Von Whoreson (no, seriously, it's his real name) is running after me. Daddy issues one and daddy issues two are by his sides, red faced and puffing as they take chase. They ain't that fast, they ain't that slick they ain't gonna catch-

Smack.

Fuck. Yeah, that's a pole.

"Fuck me that hurt more than last night," and my butthole still hurts from last night, so that's saying something. I stumbled a few steps back, backpedaling as the belt around my pants loosens again. I really need to look into getting a new one. Too many times my pants had just slipped down in the middle of important meetings.

I mean, just yesterday, I was meeting Rowan Summerfall - big important guy, like the head of one of the few noteworthy mercenary teams in district six, and they fell down. Can you believe that? Just dropped it and shone my little moon, showing my pasty flesh to the world. The breeze was cold, and normally we all like a little bit of cake, but not when it's covered in lumps ya know? Goosebumps kinda just ruin the appeal.

I can't say it ruined the appeal too badly for Rowan. He bent me over pretty quick and had me calling his name within five mins. I think I'm going to get the job and a few more favours.

There's some more shouting behind me, sounds like a dying duck and so I know Morris is closing in. His laboured breathing kinda reminds me of Rowan's breathing in my ear. Kinda hot, but also a little wet. Morris should workout some more. I yank my pants up until they're safely wedged between my butt cheeks and start running again. My head really doesn't appreciate the pole, and I swing my finger at it as I zoom on by.

That'll show it.

I think they're catching up, but I also don't really want to look back just in case my ass clenching ain't enough and that little bit of extra fear sends me. So I push a little harder, slapping the ground with shoes that look like they're a hot minute from falling apart. A lady gets in my way, I shove her aside with a delicate flick of my wrist. She scoffs and I scoff back, "maybe dress a bit better if you're gonna judge me, cow."

She looks unhappy. My job is done.

The next street post won't get in my way. I grab it with a hand, using my momentum to fling myself down the next street. At this point, I'm struggling to hold onto my pants and the bag I'd stolen that's in my shirt. I have to let something go. So I pick my dignity, the easier choice once you've been pegged and called the man your daddy. Maybe I'm the one with the daddy issues, but honestly, don't we all have daddy issues?

I come to a screeching halt, precious seconds lost as I pull my pants down, feeling the breeze on my cherries as I yank them off. I toss them to the side, taking a moment to admire my beautiful tan line. You'd have thought I was toast, but I'm actually bread underneath my clothes. That was kinda poetic, maybe I'm in the wrong career? This one definitely makes more money so I toss that thought aside as I do with my pants. They land in a puddle and I realise I won't be coming back tonight to pick those up, they've been tainted by the streets.

Now problems 1, 2 and 3 have caught me with my pants down. They're at the beginning of the alley, hands on knees puffing with faces as red as a finger once it's been jammed in a door. "You-" He takes a moment to breathe, I give him the time he needs to say whatever it is on his mind. I'm nice like that. "You- you'll pay for this."

I doubt it, I have two cents to my name on a good day. A whole dollar when I'm naked and maybe a few pieces of dirt in the morning. Oh- wait he means with violence. He'll have to catch me first, and from his huffing and puffing he ain't gonna blow this house down.

"You can't catch me," I say, pulling the bag out and holding it tightly in my hand.

I squat down, stretching my legs as I eye Morris. Eye contact was my best defense right now and his fragile little ass couldn't help but avoid my gaze. Gottem. It's all I need to twist and keep running, the freedom of my legs being unrestricted allowing me to gather speeds I'd never reached before. This must be what it feels like to be a deer leaping through a forest. I feel elegant and graceful as I outpace my chasers.

By the time I've disappeared into the sunset and daddy issues gang has vanished from sight it's almost sunset. I pause by my house grabbing the bag that I'd stolen. I was sure this was going to have some good stuff. Morris was known for his money, a highkey high bet for getting something worth my time.

I open the big. There's nothing inside except a letter. I pull it out and read it, but after the first few sentences, I want to gag. It's a love letter to one of the girls in our school. How gross. I toss it onto the street and throw the bag into the nearest bin.

Great. I have no pants and no money. What an unlucky day.