Sweet

Honey is sweet. Honey is kind and a typical do-gooder. But Honey is tired of being good and sweet and kind and boring. Honey wanted to be bad.

Honey is a waitress. Honey goes to her job and works dutifully and well. But where is all this goodness getting me? She thought.

Honey is a good daughter. She lives at home with her parents and does not give them trouble. Honey is always home on time, calls her parents to let them know where she is and helps with the bills. Where is the fun in that?

Honey licked her lips as she stared up at the neon sign in front of her. The phone in her pocket buzzed for the second time; "Home" flashed on the screen. For the second time, Honey pressed ignore. The breeze nipped around the flash of her legs not covered by her short skirt and her knee-high boots. Honey shivered in anticipation and pushed through the door.

Honey hiccuped loudly and then giggled. The arm draped around her shoulders tightened slightly and pulled her in closer. You taste sweet...like honey, the voice slurred in her ear. Honey laughed, head thrown back and flung her laughter to the stars. How can honey taste sweet when she was being so bad?