Her mother would smile, this was their ritual which always ended up in Clara getting a cookie or treat.
“Don’t tell your sisters,” Theresa would say.
As was the custom, Clara grabbed the treat and took a bite and smiled. Every morsel brought her closer to heaven.
“I won’t, mama,” Clara would reply as crumbs rolled off her lips.
Before the memory of that taste could fully form in her mind, a cool soft hand rolled up Clara’s tummy and stopped at the base of her breasts.
Disclaimer: This novel is an work in progress and readers may encounter grammatical errors and inconsistencies. Please view this a draft and not a published work.
Leave a Reply