I turned south at Amarillo and rode the highway at 75 mph plus. It had been a long hot trip but I had enjoyed every minute of it—especially the anticipation of what awaited me at the end of the road. 240 miles to go. She was waiting for me at the end of this last stretch. She had never met me, but we'd swapped pictures of the inter-net a couple times. She wa...
Laura's tale I suppose I was lucky to have made two such good friends. Veronica, Vee, and Geraldine, Gerry, who sort of took me under their wing as it were when I started nursing. I was, at eighteen, a pretty, blue eyed blond virgin. Vee and Gerry were both fairly free with the sex. They said that if they liked a guy, they saw nothing wrong in enjoying a g...
The first time I laid eyes on Adam Guillot he was yelling at some old white guy in the swimming pool at school because the guy had something to say about his athletic abilities in the aquatic realm. I should mention that Adam is the only black member of the university swim team and he's used to people coming at him with various stereotypes but that day, he,...
Gillian Anderson falls silent, squeezing the steering wheel with angry, white knuckles. The radio squawks futilely –Bob Seger murmuring about the sound of thunder. I turn the music off; in this close, brooding quiet, the song seems out of place. “Listen,” I say, “you asked if . . .” “Why the hell would you say that?” Gillian demands, cutting me off, “You t...
I'm standing at a bus stop on the Lower Ormeau Road when a para brick comes up the street--four squaddies with SA-80s. They're on the other side of the street. One of the guys gets down on one knee and enfilades me with his weapon. Two of the others stand back to back while the other scopes. I wonder if the weapon's on safety but no one's ever been shot th...
Their section of the beach was usually deserted when they walked down from the cottage. Nothing was different this morning. To the east all you could see was sand and surf. To the west a few people were just shapes on the horizon. The neighbours weren't down to their cabana yet. Dress was casual here on the island and sometimes non-existent or at best very s...
Yes, I know its knott spellt that weigh, but sum people seem sew con-fused about simple gramma that I decided to post this humble guide and save them – and myself – some time in future. The Comma Comma usage is in some respects a question of personal writing style: some writers use commas liberally, while others prefer to use them sparingly. For instance...
Ten years after we began our joint venture, my brother, Alicia and I, after downing the better part of a bottle of Jack Daniels, reviewed the lot in life we'd dealt ourselves. Michael seemed content enough, modeling for and promoting our project, doing the accounting, driving the motor home and letting Alicia collect his sperm. I was content enough screwing...
This is a work of fiction any similarities between the characters, events, or locations in this story and actual locations, events, or people are purely coincidental. © 2005 Warlord * Moving slowly around the cabin, I carefully looked out every window. The perspective changed slightly, the view stayed the same. I was looking at greenery. Only what I...
John had been in Switzerland for six months, after his dad had got him a job with his company, but now the project was coming to an end. He had a week left on his flat, and decided to use the time to relax before heading home to London. He was having breakfast in his favourite little cafe, reading the paper, when he came across a small advert in the classif...