[My sincere thanks to estragon for proof-reading and copyediting this story. -Tricia] Session III: Group Session The weekend was one of the best I had had in a while. Dr. Gupta's prescription to help my sleep was working like a charm. It was a little difficult to get the privacy to masturbate, but I was managing. It was one thing to worry about my husband,...
How does one begin? How do you write about the secrets that haunt you, the thoughts you keep even from yourself? Worse, how do you not express the things you hide in the dark? Letting them out seems terrifying, but keeping them in is eating me alive. I can't think about it by myself. I can't talk about it with my husband. I don't know what my friends would...
This is the second part to a two-part short story about a married woman who is taught the meaning of love by an exotic Indian woman. There will not be any more parts or chapters: sometimes a story just has to end where it ends. ***** I continued to observe the area for the next few days. I knew one thing: open garage doors were an open invitation to come...
My name is Kelly Brownstone. A six-foot-one, voluptuous and dark-skinned young black woman living in the city of Milton, Massachusetts. If you can call this sort of thing living. I now reside in a tiny shed not far from the house of a woman I once loved. A woman who betrayed me and took everything away from me. My money. My job. My pride. My dignity. My free...
Jan closed the heavy wooden door and then leaned against it and sighed deeply. What a morning, she thought. First Bob, her husband of over twenty years, lost his briefcase. She'd found it for him and was trying to get breakfast ready, when Eric, her eldest, announced he was quitting his job. This provoked a fight with his father that Jan broke up only by ste...
Carrie watched as the short black girl weaved her way through the press of bodies and sat primly at the bar. She wasn't dressed in any of the outrageous stuff that all the other women were trying to pull off. On the contrary, she was clad in a simple dark-blue pair of jeans, and a black low-cut top, emphasizing her curvy shape. She turned her head and looked...
"I can't believe how chilly it got!" Dakota exclaimed, as she peeled off her leather jacket inside the warm shop. Her normally pale cheeks were rosy from the brisk November winds, and her long, wavy blonde hair, never exactly styled, was even more wild. "And to think last week it was 80 degrees out!!" She hung up her jacket in the closet in the office, and...
This is the last time I allow myself to frown over you people, I told myself as I walked out of the mosque in the City of Ottawa, Province of Ontario. I still couldn't shake off the Imam's words as he practically glowered at me as he ordered me out of the men's prayer hall. He called me every name in the book. All because I wanted to pray with men. Because o...
Her pink cheeks are flush with the excitement of telling a story. Her blonde hair rests on her shoulders. Her blue eyes are wide and they look to me for approval. I turn up the corners of my mouth and she continues with more vivacity. The innocence and naivety pour from her ink- pen blue eyes. I am not listening as intently as I should be. I am thinking abo...
London, 1855 A stunned crowd gathered outside the courthouse. It was the biggest news, the greatest scandal that had ever struck London town, perhaps ever. Inside the imposing edifice, which nearly resembled a red-brick jail, a woman was standing trial for having murdered her husband in order to live with her lover, another woman, who had just become a wido...