There's a standard joke when the UK is hit with cold weather - that we're utterly unable to cope. Even a sprinkling of the white stuff brings the road and rail networks virtually crashing to a halt. Schools close, people can't get to work, supermarkets are swamped by panic buyers and tabloids declare 'SNOWMAGEDDON!'
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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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Sarah sat with Dan and Jane, sipping on her drink, swapping happy banter with her friends. They'd been drinking steadily for a couple of hours and were certainly feeling the influence of their drinks.
Sarah had always thought that her friend's boyfriend was hot and had fantasised on occasion about running into him somewhere and fucking his brains out. She wasn't out to steal him from Jane or anything, but she sure did like to daydream.
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My wife, Sue and I have always enjoyed the beach and all that it has to offer. We have enjoyed many days just frolicking in the surf with nothing on except our smiles and soaking up the suns rays. Early on in our marriage we made an investment that we have enjoyed for many years, a fabulous beach cottage. We shared it with our children, who have all moved away and it has been a safe haven for each of us during some of those trying years of our marriage.
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I remember the summer after my first year of college as if it was yesterday. Even though my freshman year at the university had opened my eyes to new and wondrous things, the summer that followed changed my life forever, in more ways than one.
I had grown up in a small town in Northeast Iowa, following in the footsteps of many young women before me. I was on the girls basketball team, learned home economics from a spinster who thought cooking nutritious meals was the most important part of making a marriage work, and discussed the secrets of boys, sex and rock 'n' roll at slumber parties at my friends' houses.
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I hate it when my wife goes out of town. I am left to my own devices and do not do well under those circumstances. God knows I am too old to hang out at clubs and I am not a neighborhood bar kind of guy
She tries to take the pressure off by getting some of her friends to invite me over for dinner, but if she is gone during the week I usually decline. I can find enough work and a good book to get me through the evenings.
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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 deadline was next week. Alex needed a reasonably good first draft into the committee by then or his tenure would definitely be in jeopardy. His academic career depended upon pulling this off and he wasn't sure it was possible.
The scholarly work is solid. I'm sure of that, he thought. What is missing is proof that the ancient cults have relevance in today's psyche. Furthermore, I am the last person on earth capable of following through on the practical research. Why do I think I can find it here?
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I don't remember my first months at the convent. They say it was trauma amnesia. I was 7 years old when I was left there after my parents were killed in a car accident. I can not complain about the life I had there. It was better then an orphanage. The sisters taught me everything that a girl should know. Cooking, cleaning, and traditional education. I grew up knowing I was loved. It was my eighteenth birthday when Mother Superior sat me down to explain that it was time for me to leave.
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It was Friday afternoon. I sat at my desk staring at my computer screen, trying very, very hard to concentrate on the report I was supposed to be writing. Half past three. Time had slowed almost to a halt; every passing second seemed to take an age. But then I realised there were only two and a half hours to go - and all of a sudden time was going way, way faster than I could cope with.
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