To the Alexandria Children's Orphan Asylum, I am a young woman looking for three small children to raise and love. I understand that, as a single woman, you may have your doubts about my ability to care for three children, but I can assure you, I am quite capable. I own a farm just outside of Knightsville, and I have plenty of room to care for them. I also...
Kent held his book in one hand and scraped dirt off the side of his sneaker with a stick he held in the other. Deciding to read his assigned chapter on a bench in front of the English building on the nicest day of the year was a big mistake, Kent thought. Waaaaaaaaaaay too easy to get distracted out here. A deep purr caught Kent’s ear and grew louder as an...
The day had barely muttered grayly through the closed window, had barely whispered in the tunnel of her pink ear, had only rolled once to stretch its clouded back and try to dim the sun with ash-cover that would deny the hour, when she knew. She guessed by the still of the apartment, by the strength of her own breathing, by the lack of a certain damp warmth...
This a sequel to my earlier story, Lunch with Satan. It was a dark evening in the club, waiting for its prophet to perform. Several couples sat at tables, drinking and talking, flirting and teasing, looking and being watched. A skinny, young looking waitress in a short, dark uniform glided from table to table, her dark hair done in spit curls with a rose pe...
Mr. St. Franklin was a difficult man to be friends with. He viewed all others in order of their usefulness to him. Yet, Mr. St. Franklin, defying all odds, had a friend. He was Bob, who was without a doubt the nicest man in the twelve western states (as well as a grand swath of western Canada). Bob and Mr. St. Franklin had known each other since childhood....
I slept well that night. Perhaps a few dreams centred around the extraordinary events of the previous evening. I set the alarm for 7.15 and used the shower off the stables. At five to eight I tapped on the kitchen door: I could smell bacon cooking. "Come in" came the laughing voice. I crept up behind her at the stove and put my arms around her waist. Sh...
Author's Note: The Dark Chronicles is my version of one of the world's great myth cycles. I play fast and loose with the more established versions of the myth (of which there are many) by introducing new characters, changing names, changing events, and generally writing it my way. Commentary along the lines of, "but the stories don't tell it that way" will...
A few hours later both women hung limp, softly moaning, still bound at the wrist and held together by the tit tubes. Neither was fully conscious the constant internal wriggling sending them into a half crazed world of their own. The inquisitor had left them long ago and now only two sweat covered guards watched over them. The vat was beginning to ripple wit...
You know I was standing in the shower, just letting the hot water run over me and got to thinking about things. Not the stuff that I normally think of in the shower but the stuff that can be way scary if one thought about it to much. Like men, for instance. No, I am not male bashing. I think that they are delightful creatures that are easily dazed and confus...
Mariella Medina, Ph.D., was enraged. The cute-at-first-sight Mexican businesswoman furrowed her rather too broad brow as she shivered in her severely undersewn frilly strapless, backless tube top. Her figure was decent, with a pert pair of sandy-brown breasts over a flattish tummy and slender legs crammed into ludicrous seven-inch heels, probably to mask her...