Tawny Stories

Tawny breezes of autumn enchant maple glitter, Embellishing each leaf of platinum velvet; Whistling its ariose aphrodisia Where’er winces are efflorescent, ‘Till fall’s rains sweeten their florid fires, As my blood throbs ‘mid each downpour.   Dropping into a roadside stream, russet is rife Swirling with careless abandon; So goes the vicissitudes of vibrance, Like my life, that escorts their swim ‘Till I find myself with...

  The place was always crowded on a Friday night, and, following his usual scanning of curvy female dancers and picking out one or two who might succumb to his well worn chat-up line. He sat down at a table to give a deeper consideration to his selections. Harry Laine had no real belief that he was one of the world’s great lovers, but he was aware at the age of twenty-two that young women, and some not so young, found him...