I was your typical small town girl, pretty naļve, and with two options open to me after high school: work a crummy job and live with my parents, or marry a local boy and make lots of babies. Neither appealed to me, so at 19 I moved to the big city for fun and adventure.
I had come home from an out-of-town consulting trip, weary of travelling and looking forward to a quiet evening at home with my wife. My drive home from the airport was long and uneventful, and only served to further tire an already tired body. I was sincerely looking forward only to a good night’s sleep.
This happened a few years ago. Her name was Heidi. When I met her she was working as an Au Pair, a live-in sitter/house keeper. Heidi was from Germany, twenty years old, blond 5′ 10″ 145#s, a real beautiful women. When I was with her I would always enjoy the way other men looked at
I always got my hair cut at Schroeders. You know the one, down on Harbor Blvd., towards the beach. I went there, not because they were the cheapest, or the best, or even the fastest. I went there because they had the best looking ‘cutters’ around. I came to call it “Rock Slut Hair Cuts”
It had been several months since Henry had been asked to introduce some of his neighbors’ teenaged daughters to the world of sex. The girls and their mothers had wanted, no they had almost insisted, Henry at over fifty years of age take the girl’s virginities and show them how wonderful sex could be. The
Cindy was at a loss for a place to sleep that night. Her savings were one beef-on-a-stick away from tapping out, and she was looking for work. Honest work, she kept telling herself, she wasn’t that hungry… yet. She passed the front of the big department store. Crowds were milling in and out of the
It began at dinner. The humor and banter of table conversation was punctuated by her meaningful glances and significant smiles. She wove her emotional cocoon around his mind slowly and carefully, channeling the conversation in the direction she sought, teasing and seducing him with voice as well as words. It progressed with a back rub.
Colleen lit the birthday candles on her husband’s cake and turned out the dinning room light. She loved surprising her husband and this being his thirty-fifth birthday wasn’t any different. She baked his favorite, chocolate frosting over chocolate. “Paul. Are you coming?” “Honey. I’ll be there in just a moment.” Paul walked into the dinning
Iris was fucking pissed off. Not only did she think Uncle Louie was an asshole, but now she was stuck in a minivan for the next 3 days with her parents and boxes and boxes of his shit. Why couldn’t they just get married in San Diego? And why couldn’t he hire a fucking mover