As Angie bent down to grab a package she realized the globes of her thong-clad butt were likely visible to half the room. She adjusted her approach to kneel, rather than bend, though the flex of her naked thighs elicited as much attention as her nearly naked ass. Her elf costume was all a “big mistake” according to the Chairman. It was supposed to be a modest green tunic, a silly hat, and little shoes with rolled-up toes....

Logan McConnell sighed and leaned back against the hard wooden pew. It had been a good turnout, he thought. He looked around the chapel. Yellow roses — Cindy’s favorite — were everywhere. A huge bouquet sat atop the coffin. Bright ribbons and bunting softened the bland, sad interior of the nursing home chapel. He smiled. She would have been pleased. She hated sad, somber funerals. She preferred celebration. In life and no...

They stood in pregnant silence at the hotel elevator doors. They were two colleagues, lightly drunk with cocktails and innuendo. “The view of the mountains is amazing, isn’t it?” he asked. “Ha!” she scoffed. “My view is of the parking garage.” I should invite her to my room to see the sunset, he thought but did not say. He hit seventeen. “What floor?” he asked. She did not answer. Her big brown eyes met his and lingered....

Nancy stretched her legs wide to either side of her pink bedspread as the fingers of her right hand found their way through the tangle of blonde down that covered her mons Venus. Meanwhile, she grazed her torso with the nails and fingertips of her left hand. She ran her hand in a circuit from her hip, up to her tummy, between her small breasts, to her neck, then down along her rip cage back to its origin. Goosebumps trail...

McMurray double-clutched his Dodge coupe through the narrow curves of the Hollywood Hills. When his hand wasn't on the stick, it was keeping his .38 from sliding off the leather seat. The dead lawyer in Malibu Canyon confirmed what he had started to believe a week ago; what he had probably believed since the Widow Stanwyck first stepped into his office. She was a killer, and not just because of the way she filled out a dr...

Chapter 16 May sat within the sleek black coupe in a stupor. She stared out the small window as dusk dropped over Manhattan. There was a whirring in her ears from the rush of her own blood. She couldn't hear the horses’s hooves or the wooden wheels, not even when Park Avenue changed from dirt to paving stones. She didn't hear the driver wrapping at the coupe door. She didn't even hear the words that the happy stable boy s...

Chapter 13 May’s nervousness dissipated a bit as Susanne joined her. As turned on as she was, May was still a bit daunted by Robert’s big, brown staff. Susanne gave May a wink as she grasped Robert’s thick base and lifted it to expose his massive balls. Susanne giggled and winked again as she ran her extended tongue along Robert’s sac. May copied her confident friend’s movements. Soon, each was covering the thick, dark sh...

You deserve all the things. You deserve kisses, and blue belles, And beaches and books. Hugs and licks and vigorous fucks, too. You deserve all the things. You deserve happiness and grief, And love and lust. Sexy dresses and well-placed lips, too. You deserve all the things. You deserve Provence and lavender, And sighs and cum. Wine and sunsets and cuddles, too. You deserve all the things.

Chapter Ten: Spencer sees May in a new light Spencer Archer entered the Jansens’s foyer with excitement. It wasn’t often that the Vanderbilts, Roosevelts, and Astors were all in one place. And it was all the rarer that he and his wife would be invited, at least to an affair this small. When it came to business, the old New Amsterdam crowd kept their circle very tight. As successful as Archer’s father and grandfather had b...

Chapter 7: A brisk awakening Martha swept into May’s suite at eight o’clock. The doctor was due for his weekly visit, and was expected at nine. Martha anticipated a battle. However, to her surprise she only saw Edith, who was making the bed. Edith looked up, and shrugged her shoulders. Martha eventually found May in the kitchen. She was there chatting with the shocked cook. Chatting with staff?! Martha was astounded. And...

Chapter One: A respectable house Martha Wharton surveyed the unspoken, hidden chaos of her house. It wasn’t actually her house, of course. She was a cockney immigrant to New York. She had arrived as a fifteen-year-old in 1857, and started as a chambermaid in a grand house in Murray Hill. Hard work, charm, a capacity to put up with no end of shite, and, most importantly, a gift for exploiting the weaknesses of others, had...

Emily stopped at the crest of the hill. She had left later than was wise, and had skied the last couple of miles in quickly falling light. The truth may have been that she had left late on purpose. The truth may have been that she liked having the trail to herself. The truth may have been that she loved the stillness that came after the sun went down. The truth may have been that she loved how the beam of her headlamp dan...

Jack let out a sigh as the plane gained altitude. It had been an incredible trip. The hiking, skiing on a glacier, beach combing, and, good heavens. the sex, had all been magnificent. It might well have been the perfect trip, and Ellen might be as close to the perfect woman as any he could imagine. Yet, with every foot of altitude and mile west of Portland the wide-body gained, Jack drifted back to his normal life in New...

Beth made her rounds from room to room like a zombie. Working on seven hours' sleep achieved in, at best, thirty-minute increments over the previous two days, she struggled to put coherent thoughts together. What thoughts she did have were more like visions. It was as if a drone version of her exhausted mind was looking down upon herself, lying naked in the soft sheets of her own bed, eating Hagandaz from the carton, watc...

A thirty-year-old box stares from the top shelf, Calling with memories and heartache. Like a thistle attached to the cuff of his life, The box could not be washed away, nor was it welcome. Hands stained by sun, age and injury, Pry open the box, it's key long lost. A mélange of cedar, ink, old paper and Chanel, Races from the box like a demon, triggering visions. Blue Air Mail envelopes tied in a ribbon, Flash images of th...