The Gender Game 7: The Gender End
The Gender Game 7: The Gender End is the seventh book in the The Gender Game series by author Bella Forrest. This is the breathtaking end to this fascinating series of The Gender Game.
We invite you to follow this wonderful story.
Prologue
My sweaty Palms slipped against the handles of my bike as I cycle data Pace I hope would not look suspicious
I tried to fix my eyes ahead on the perfectly even Road and not keep glancing over my shoulder at the makeshift
Wooden trailer I was pulling behind me
Have the uniform townhouses on either side of me crew sparse
Sodalite
By the time I arrived at the edge of town
The sun had set
I have been lucky so far
I hadn’t passed anybody I knew and nobody had halted me to ask where I was going
I slowed to a stop once I reach the end of the last concrete road on this side of the city
Catching my breath
I wiped my Palms against my blouse
My lower back side sticky with sweat
And I had run out of water
But
Almost there now
I reposition to my throbbing Palms on the handlebars and my feet on the pedals at the bike when I voice
Voice called behind me
Violet
Is that you
I froze
I knew that voice
It was one I’ve grown accustomed to hearing every Monday Wednesday and Friday
Miss Dale my defense trainer
What was she doing in this part of town at nightfall
I forced a casual expression to my face and twist it around
The fluorescent Street lamps illuminated the tall light brunette standing on the sidewalk
Outside georgettes laundry
He was clutching a bundle of white sheets
Good evening Miss Dale
I called back
What are you doing out here violet
She asked
My job switched as she left the sidewalk and approached me
Trashing mizkan Alisal China
I explained
A response I had thought up long before leaving my room this morning
Oh
IC
She said
Her eyes moving from my three-wheeled trailer and returning to my face
Wish I had someone to run my errands
She grimaced at her laundry
I managed to half-smile
She lingered a few seconds longer before glancing back at the launderette
Right
Well
You better be on your way
You know the junkyard gets creepier the later it gets
I murmured
Do you Monday
She turned on her heel
And I let out a slow breath
Gritting my teeth
I faced forward again my eyes focusing on the narrow Cobblestone path that branched off from the end
End of the road
I cycled for another 15 minutes down the winding route
Cast of suburban cottages and misted greenhouses
Until I reached the pair of corrugated iron gates
The junkyards entrance
Communicates open just wide enough for my bike to fit through
I rolled it inside
I gazed around the city of color coded trash containers wide-eyed
Nobody was around
So far so good
The overpowering smell of artificial mint filled my nostrils as I wound around
And the containers toward the back of the enclosure
The chemical the hygiene Department sprayed him here helped him SB odor of trash
But have the tendency to cause a dull headache
Arriving at the last World trash containers lining the back wall
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