Kit seems to end up naked very often, not in the most private of places. She finds that it can be very embarrassing. Finds it may be beneficial financially. Her neighbor may prove to be a bitch. The best friend becomes more friendly with nice benefits. Her sister-in-law may be more experienced than she ever thought.
My daughter, Lindy, was only ten when her mother and I divorced. I hadn't known what she had in mind in the years since, but when she was fourteen she made her desire to have my baby very clear. Of course, she was too young, and I had to find a way of turning her away from her plan. Trouble was, she had grown into a very beautiful and attractive teen, and it was difficult to ignore the fact. Besides, there was nothing I wanted more than to father a child on her, despite knowing I shouldn't.
What would you do if you knew the world was about to end? Who would you want to see one last time? For one father and daughter, the answers they sought would only be found with each other.
The cold war is still hot when Harry gets orders to transport a "package" to a safe haven. Everything changes with the passage of time but some things never change. The drops are still dangerous and the rules are no longer followed like the old days. It is best to trust no one not even his bosses.
Often I take a year or so to finish a story. The idea of this story came to me one night and was finished within days. This is the story of a teacher who gets deliberately knowcked off his bike and gets adopted by quite unique family. The centrepiece are the twins who have an unusual characteristic in that they can feel the pain and ecstacy of the others experiences. This also includes a randy mother and Grandmother who also make demands on the lucky man.
An archaeologist finds a statuette of a Fertility Goddess on a dig and is compelled to smuggle it home, where it causes changes in her, her children, her neighborhood, and more.
A story in the Beyond the Wall of Sleep Universe Part of Gothic Horror Challenge
New Orleans used to be a city of elegance and beauty. It's all gone now, and instead of laissez les bons temps rouler, I get the leftovers from a Cold War era gulag. Except sometimes, I see things. Hear things too. A brass band leading a funeral procession. A whiff of magnolia. The whisper of live oaks draped in Spanish moss. I don't know what's real anymore. And I can't get out.