Part 1 of a new story up at matthewkeville.com. Check out the story about teenage dreams, second chances, and the outpost on the City’s shining edge.
On impulse, I glanced at the nearest reflective surface – a bar window, as it happened – and saw myself as I’d always imagined in my old wish-dreams, complete with skintight jeans, high-heeled boots, spiky leather jacket, and my fiery red hair in a perfect Eighties mane of my own, the kind that was almost impossible to achieve without professional help, but it was perfect anyway. More than perfect. Instead of being hard and rigid with hairspray, it was soft and wild and voluminous, the ideal that everyone strived for but no one ever really achieved.
(Also, my tits were perky and my ass was smooth and round and tight like they hadn’t been for decades, if ever.)
I looked like Tawny Kitaen in Here I Go Again.
I also looked eighteen.