Your erotic stories

As I walk through the hall way of the spa, stretching my neck as I go and extending my arms to crack my knuckles, I wonder what kind of customers my boss has stuck me with today. As if put on her dump-on list as of late, I had nothing but the old, wrinkly, and unappreciative clientèle. I stop in front of a mirror to check my short spikes atop my head, when the reflection shows me a vision that made my entire body react. Behind me struts two women, robes and slippers in hand, mid to late twenties at best, walking close to one another and talking quietly to themselves.

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The beginning of this story occurred at least a dozen years ago when I worked for a former employer and would travel to various cities on business. These business trips occurred quite often and would vary from overnight stays to a week in duration. One of these cities was St. Louis and the stays were usually three to five days long. Clients and vendors would usually wine and dine me most nights but eventually I needed some time to myself, so I started begging off at least one night during each visit.

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Last Christmas, I gave my husband a present he will never forget. I wanted to make his holiday extra special. When he came down the stairs on Christmas morning, he never noticed the beautifully decorated Christmas tree. He never saw the enormous pile of presents. His eyes were instantly drawn to the cute little blonde perched on the mantelpiece wearing nothing but a Christmas stocking.

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"Character," Kristin said. "The most important part of any piece of fiction. If you start writing with only a plot in mind, you will struggle with your characters. However, if you start with your characters, they will create your plot for you." The writing workshop was nearly full. Kristin Morris had had eleven books on the romantic bestseller list. Her current historical romance, "The Sands of Fortune," had been holding steady on the list for nearly eight weeks.

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Chapter 1 I'm one of the lucky ones. I went to work in a really good job right out of college and was in the right place at the right time to be offered an early retirement buyout package when I was fifty-six. Yeah, how about that? And, it was a good package, too good to turn down.

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"I miss him so much," she said finally, after a long silence. She looked on the verge of tears, so I covered my best friend's hand with mine; it seemed the only thing I could do at that tender moment. She glanced down at our joined hands and continued, "I can't bring myself to clear out his closet. It smells too much of him. Everyone says I need closure, but I guess it's just too soon."

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I've waited months to share this story with someone. I still can't believe it happened. You would think the details would have faded over time, but fortunately the events I want to share with you are vividly imprinted in my memory. I have never felt anything like this before in my life, a warm, fuzzy, tingly feeling deep inside of me and bubbles with happiness.

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When I was 13 my family moved to the LA area of California and we lived there until I was 17, a senior in high school. My dad, a software engineer got transferred up to the San Francisco area and so we moved once again. I was pretty bummed as I had made a bunch of really good friends. On the other hand, it was probably the best thing for me at the time because I was really getting out of control with partying and wild behavior.

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As I watched her retreating back, I knew that we would be taking her home that night. Next to me, Alex was also eyeing with unconcealed appreciation the way the curves of her cute little butt spilt out of her white shorts, which were so tight they seemed painted on. We were in St. Tropez on our annual attempt to get away from it all -- "all" being our hectic, money-grubbing lives in New York -- in the old sprawling villa that we owned by the water. Actually, I shouldn't complain. New York makes St. Tropez possible.

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I took the outlet pass from Darrel just before midcourt on the right side. Johnson slid over to try to make me give the ball up, but I crossed him over and cut back towards the center of the court. I spotted Malcolm running the wing on the other side of the court, then drew the defense away from him by turning my gaze back to the right side of the court at D.J who was getting ready to spot up at the three-point line.

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