Tag: fiction

The Sexcapades of Cassidy & Annalise

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“Don’t you ever get bored?”

I blinked in surprise, the unexpected question rousing me from my contemplative trance. Turning away from my computer, I glanced over my shoulder. My body followed the motion as my chair swiveled slowly to complete the action. Facing the open door to my study, I cocked my head to the side, quirking my eyebrows curiously at my bestie. 

Annalise stood in the entrance, leaning against the doorway in her black tank top and red short shorts. One hand perched against the curve of her waist, her other arm was hidden behind the wall. Short and svelte, her body language and demeanor told me that my redheaded housemate was bored and looking for conversation.

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How I Lost My Name: Chapter 1

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I still remember the day when everything changed.

It was a Saturday in early November. The weather was shit – cold and rainy – but our fridge was empty. I knew Jackie wouldn’t want to go out in the rain and she was still sleeping in anyway. It was the weekend after all; her policy was to sleep in. Sometimes we’d go grocery shopping together, but I liked surprising her. I loved spoiling her.

It was nearly noon by the time I got back. I could hear music playing from the bedroom; I assumed she was probably taking a shower. As I headed into the kitchen, grocery bags rustling about my legs, I paused as I set them down on our kitchen counter as two things slowly occurred to me. I didn’t hear the telltale sound of the shower in use, but I did hear her soft moans coming from our bedroom. 

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Maid for You

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Kayla could feel a light blush coloring her cheeks as she imagined herself wearing it; she could barely suppress her smile as she bit lightly down on her bottom lip, a tingle of excitement ran down her spine. She’d waited so long…she’d been eyeing this item ever since the first prototype had been released nearly two years ago. During that time she’d made it to the payment confirmation page dozens of times already, but had never managed to bring herself to hit the “Confirm” button.

Until now.

No more excuses. After two years, it was obvious that the company was still going strong and had perfected their product. After two years of continually coming back to the site and staring longingly at their catalogue, it was obviously a sign that she needed it in her life.

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Breeding Natalia

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Nathaniel Geller had been a young, up-and-coming salesman at MedZ who’d shown great potential. In just a few years, he made his way from ambitious college graduate to savvy junior manager. Risky ventures that others were skeptical of luckily always seemed to turn out successfully with Nathaniel’s assurances – so far, his “hunches” have never been wrong. His seemingly effortless rise in position was met with both admiration and envy by his peers. It seemed like nothing, and no one, would be able to stop the enterprising entrepreneur. 

That is, until a certain business dinner with a representative from PharmaX. While Nathaniel’s string of successful start-ups were all underdogs with, some would say, shady supporters, even he knew when to hedge his bets. This would be the third time he’s turned down PharmaX but he certainly wasn’t complaining. Steak and lobster dinners on their dime? Keep em coming! It wasn’t going to change his answer.

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Inebriated Epiphany

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Patrick Henry cursed for the thousandth time as he stormed out of his manor, a stream of muttered unpleasantries wafting behind him. “Damned father of mine. Married. Married! And to a prude of a woman no less!” 

It had been three months since the previous Earl of Wilshire had passed and left his sole heir, Patrick, with a will stating his desire that the Henry family join hands with the Merills. A man who lived for the pleasantries in life, Patrick had never intended to return home, much less settle down. He was only twenty-eight for gods sake!

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And Then, There Was Just Us

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Crunch. 

I looked up from the boxes in the trunk of the car. The sound of footsteps crushing dried leaves came from around the tall, vine-covered wall surrounding the yard. My hand moved to the cold iron barrel of the air rifle by my side and I glanced anxiously at the ten-year-old boy I hardly knew, standing near the door to the house behind me. He looked as nervous as I was, both hands pressing a scarf to his mouth as if he were trying to suffocate himself. I turned back to the gate –or what was left of it– just as the figure shuffled into view. 

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