Note about the author: English is not my first language, in fact, it is not even my second language, I'm bilingual, and English is neither of those languages. So spelling and grammar are what they are. Idioms, phrases, etc., probably are used strangely, since the language and culture are foreign to me. Disclaimer: This story is not intended for people unde...
PS: as usual from my lawyer: names, places, incidents are all fictional and used for entertainment purposes only. Any similarity is purely coincidental and unintended ... blah blah blah, enjoy the show folks! ******************** "Fuck, Fuck, FUCK!" Adam thought franticly as he hid behind a pallet of tile clutching the department phone to his chest. The ba...
Author's Note: Thanks, as always, for the encouragement and patience of those of you still reading. I had in mind this chapter from the very beginning, but really struggled with the right words to say to bring it to life. I haven't decided whether I'll write more chapters, but as I've come to really love what Claire and Sebastien have together, I'm sure I'll...
Notes from the author Sorry for the long delay. But good news! I am using a volunteer editor named CreativityTakesCourage. Yeah, I know, about time right? Thank you Creativity for the excellent help on putting a polish on my story. I am sure that the readers will appreciate your hard work. Dr. Sybil Tobita, uninitiated Nonseeth, San Francisco, California...
Paris, 1952 ‘I am so glad that you could come today, Mon Amie…’ Henriette smiled at me as she sipped her wine. She had invited me to stay for a week at her flat. ‘I’ve wanted you to meet Marie for ages…’ I sat trying not to stare at Henriette’s beautiful friend. Marie had wavy auburn hair and the most luminous green eyes I’d ever seen. She smiled at me, wa...
Larissa was single, thirty years old and a contract lawyer. She drove a Bimmer and lived in Jamaica Estates. She had not been laid in months. After the fourth month and still no bedroom action she began to put in more hours at her law firm just to keep her mind off sex. Larissa felt her sex life was non-existent because she had not found anyone whom she fel...
I suppose the story should start at the beginning, as all good telling does. My Father passed away when I was a teenager and sadly it meant I had to leave the private school I boarded at. My Mother and I had been completely unaware of the financial problems besetting him and, on reflection, had lived something of a charmed life. This ended in the late spri...
Note: Another thank you for the everlasting patience of my readers. This is still not yet the last installment - it's been quite difficult with writer's block and my new job. But! Rehearsal has started up again, so.... On a different note, I am thinking of doing a revision of this story (all 7 chapters) and I would love to get some constructive feedback (vi...
Hands. There were hands everywhere. Hands and tongues. Someone's hands on her breasts, and another pair of hands holding her legs open, where one tongue was licking her ardently. Her hands twined in golden curled hair and her tongue twisting with the man who owned it. Then he was gone, replaced my the man with the so-handsome face, capturing her mouth so tha...
I majored in "Visual Arts" in university and took my mandatory drawing class, in the first semester. The class was taught by a guest Prof. from France, Elena Mannon. She was unlike our other instructors in that she would yank the pen or conte crayon from your hand and demonstrate an idea all over your work or scribble out your attempts and demand you start a...