Your erotic stories

Some people like to be the boss, but Nancy Saddler wasn't one of them. She loved the pay, of course, and the respect, and the status. But she hated hurting people. Managing meant she had to make decisions when competing projects needed the same budget. It made her choose between different ideas of how to approach a client.

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I'm Betty. I'm twenty-seven years old, a college graduate, a paralegal by trade, and a would-be artist and recently divorced. That's about as much of my personal history that you need to know for the purposes of this story. As to what I look like, I'm five feet six; I have dirty blond hair and brown eyes. I have a decent figure. I'm not huge breasted or beautiful, although most do tell me I am attractive, at least they say that if they want to fuck me.

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It was a steamy night in the ATL and there was a power outage. No light, no AC, all the entire city could do was sit and sweat and sit and sweat some more. Luckily, I live on the top floor of my condo so I could go outside naked as the day I was born and enjoy a little breeze without the fear of anyone peeking at me.

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The cleaning girl, Monica, had arrived early on Friday afternoon. "Good afternoon, Ms. Stephens." Monica said. "Please, call me Jennifer." Opening the door to her two thousand square foot home, the tall, statuesque woman smiled at her cleaning girl. The eldest daughter of a neighbor down the street, Monica had grown into an incredibly sexy young woman. Jennifer shut the door behind her and stared dreamily at the young woman, shaking her head slightly.

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I was expecting a normal shift when I arrived at the police station. I'd just changed into my uniform, checked my make-up and was on my way to report to the desk sergeant, when Dougie Wilson, one of my colleagues and a complete arsehole, intercepted me with a grin. "Hey, Fraser, Chief Inspector McFarlane wants you to report to his office as soon as you get in. Been a bad girl have you?" Pausing only long enough to tell him to piss off, I made my way along to 'Super Mac's' office.

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I'm a modern dance instructor, and a few weeks ago a couple showed up at my modern dance class. They were the absolute picture of ski slopes fitness, the sorts who set the pace at resorts such as Aspen and Vail. I soon learned that they were both in fact competitive skiers and were taking my advanced dance class as part of their regimen to get in shape for the rigors of the upcoming winter ski season.

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I was desperate for the money that was my only excuse for answering the ad in the newspaper. I felt like a fool approaching the seedy looking hotel, where the recording of the movie would be taking place. This was a stupid idea; I berated myself, even as I knocked hesitantly at the door of the room, as directed by the production office when I called. I had to fax them my headshots and clinical records, proving that I was descent looking and healthy.

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A few months ago, I got an email from the little sister of a girl I know. Her name is April. She got a computer for her birthday. She went online found my email address. I went to grade school with her older sister. April remembered me. She searched me out and surprised me with a letter.

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Late, late, late -- I am going to be late. I muttered this mantra to myself as I ran to my car. It was 7:32 and I was supposed to check in by 8:15 at the seminar. I was headed to a teacher's seminar at a hotel about forty-five minutes from my house. The day was already hot and humid. I needed to pick up a few extra classes so I would have a better chance at getting a substitute teaching job at one of the schools close by.

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My name is Jessica and I am twenty four years of age. I grew up in a small suburb in Arkansas, minutes away from Little Rock. I had always thought of myself as an average girl with an average life with very few surprises. I certainly never thought that I would be with another woman.

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