My gift, it comes not in a boxbut still it’s packaged, neat and tight.It’s coated with a sheen of sweat,gleams with desire in soft light.My gift, it’s opened all the wayso you don’t need to ask and guess.Touch it however it does please,it’s yearning for you to assess.My gift, it comes with strings attachedto hold it steadfast in its place,but hopes you’ll send it all too soononto a naughty, breathless race.My gift, it com...

If you think ticket girls sell vouchers for sightseeing tours or admission slips, you’re on the wrong track, though you’re not really to blame. No, ticket girls, that’s what we secretly used to call ourselves, we being Mona and me, Christy. It sounded a lot better than girls who spread their legs for drugs, but that’s basically what we did. Not that we had a problem with that. From Thursday to Saturday, the local raves we...

It was a game we played, and nothing more. Some flighty teases here, some forbidden glimpses there, dropping my purse and bending over, making sure my short dress rode up to reveal more of creamy thighs and butt cheeks than considered proper or allowing greedy, foreign hands to linger on my body far too long, all that was part of the secret, thrilling game we used to play whenever we were spending evenings mingling with ‘...

“Hi, Mrs. Greenberg, I’m Allie, I’m here to do the weeding!” I smiled brightly at the tall, gray-haired woman in the dark blue gown that opened the door to the mansion. The way she looked me up and down spoke volumes, and when her eyebrow went up and she declared in a rather posh voice, “I expected someone… different, I was rather pleased with Pablo’s work,” I readied myself for a taxing day. “I know I’m not Pablo, but he...

I had been an on-and-off member of SLUT for the last half year, sometimes attending a few evenings in a row, sometimes doing my own thing for weeks, but I felt that this, somehow, didn’t sit right with Angie, my roommate. She had introduced me to Wetwood High’s most secret of clubs after she had caught me red-handed - or red-cheeked - one night, with my face buried between pretty redhead Lizbeth Stroker’s thighs behind th...

When you’ve had too little sleep, the world around you seems to be moving at a different speed from you, and everything seems distant and hidden behind a vibrant haze. It is worse when you have spent hour after endless hour at the edge of the most intense climax only to be denied. Reality barely gets through that haze to you and focusing becomes almost inhumanly difficult. Strangely, though, other things suddenly appear w...

I was nervous like hell. We had chatted endlessly about it, and what I had felt when she had proposed a visit at my place had been astonishment at her trust in me and growing excitement. I had pictured the moment and planned all kinds of things to entertain her, but now that the time of her arrival came closer, I found myself running a trench into the carpet and sweating my hands off. My nervousness, you see, wasn’t about...

The ropes in which I hung allowed only for the slightest hint of dangling movement, but to me, in my excited state, it felt like the whole world was rocking back and forth. I swallowed hard, my eyes alternating between the wicked looking riding crop in Mrs. Somerset’s hand that would swing forward and hit my unprotected body any minute now, and my friend Erin in her gleaming red rubber suit, kneeling between our future te...

I hated Em, and hated even more that I was stuck inside the cramped dorm room with her for the whole senior year at high school. I hated cheerleaders in general, but her even more. She was a bitch, that pretty, perfect looking kind of girl everyone took for an angel, with long, blond hair, full lips and boobs that drew every male’s attention. She flaunted her toned legs on high heels every opportunity she got and never ne...

Ms. Marietta Miller was a slave driver in the old sense. She tolerated no slacking, didn’t allow breaks and made you redo your work if she found just the tiniest mistake. And all this even though she wasn’t old -- in fact, she was the second youngest in the office, which didn’t make things easier. With her twenty-five years -- ten less that my thirty-five, for example -- she often rubbed us the wrong way, but there was no...

The ingredients were all there, I swear - an artfully decorated buffet overflowing with deliciousness, bottles of champagne and beautiful people in their best age and dressed in their finest clothes, hyped up by the promise of a new year with new opportunities after a highly successful one, a brilliant band that played whatever we desired, a clear sky, and all of them hustled together on the roof terrace of our company’s...

A tiny chapel, made of wood and painted in a warm, dark red, was perched on one of Iceland’s little rolling hills close to the sea. Small white crosses stood in neat, short rows and made long shadows in midsummer’s endless dawn. An old woman knelt before one, smiling softly, and lifted up the chunk of ice that she had brought. She glanced around her, making sure she was alone, then ran a finger over it and hummed a tune....

My heart criesand a dove fliesand carries love where you are.My heart burnsas the tide turnsand washes love on your shore.My heart breaksand my soul achesfor you should never feel pain.***I stole a smile, once,one of a million ones,out of pure greedfrom your lips.I hung it high, thenon the sky, love,among the prettiest stars.It was too bright though,made the rest pale,I hid it right behind Mars.Now that you need it,I took...

I hadn’t seen her before, and like always when meeting someone I wasn’t familiar with, I became tongue-tied. Though today, for some unfathomable reason, my awkward shyness was even worse. I had decided to come first thing in the morning before the big rush to the library started, but that meant that we were the only two people here and there was no crowd to hide in. Her green eyes roamed up and down the stack of computer...