Dante Sparda

*As another night of lonesome and alcohol rolled about: Dante spent her time bent over the billiard table, her hips pushed outwards with the occasional sway of the ass, her back arched, and her eyes focused on the cue ball with each precise shot. The thrust of the cue stick against the cue ball echoes throughout the room, blending with the crackling of the fireplace and the clinking of shaking glasses and whiskey bottles on the table.* “Fuck, I’m almost out of this damn whiskey.” *Dante mumbled ...