Fred awoke lazily the next day with the sun shining through his bedroom window. He immediately knew that he must have overslept because it didn't get light in Spain at this time of the year until almost eight o'clock.
Nevertheless he still luxuriated in his bed. He turned over and took hold of his firm erection. Fred slept naked, always. He pushed his light covering off and peered down at himself, admiring his thick hard dick.
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The living room windows in my house are best described as odd. In the first place, they are huge, there are four of them, each one is four feet by four feet.
Nothing so unique about that except each one angles outward at the top at 45 degrees.
When I leave the doors and windows open in the warm Summer months, that makes a perfect fly trap, they move up to the top and can't figure out how to get out.
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John had just dropped me off at the Glendale Galleria Mall because I learned there was a vacant space advertised for rent and I wanted to look at it as a possible branch for my gift shoppe. I had no appointment to see the vacancy but I thought I would give the Mall a general look-see and check if it was what I wanted. John had to take the Navigator to the Lincoln-Mercury dealership nearby for its regular service so I was left alone to look at the stores.
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Edward woke up alone. That was normal. Ever since his wife left him he always woke up alone. At least it was Saturday and he didn't have to go into the office. He was also naked. That was not normal. What happened last night, he wondered not yet fully awake. He sat up suddenly as he remembered. Last night he went to The Harbor, one of the newer clubs in town, with the project team from the office to celebrate the completion of their latest game. He swung his legs out of bed and shook his head. Did last night really happen, he thought.
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This story has been buried deep inside of me for a long time. I remember all of it very well, almost like it was last week. I've reminisced and re-lived it all many times over the years. Much of it is quite fun to remember. Some of it is bittersweet. Some of it is painful still.
When I was out of college and in my early twenties I got a job selling radio advertising in a suburban/rural area, and although new to the region, I became successful in a fairly short time.
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One moment, one lapse in concentration, and it was all over. It was my fault. She had just stepped off the kerb and I called out "See this evening." She turned, smiled; there was a screech of tyres as a bus pulling in to stop hit her. The love of my life was dead.
I met Clare when I was tutoring in English literature and she a student. I don't know if there is such a thing as love a first sight but it seemed like to me. Six months after first meeting her we were married; she was eighteen and I twenty four.
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"That's her. Check it out. Wow," whispered Billy Sherman's buddy. They were at the town bar that they had been going to since before they were legally allowed to drink. And there, at the end of the long bar, not far from the door, sat Sue Lockhart, the middle school gym teacher.
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"Wow, its starting to pour." Amy said looking out of the kitchen window.
'How appropriate' I thought to myself. It had been one of those dreary suffocating fall days that drowns your psyche. I was already a bit out of sorts. I had met Kate at the "Werks" earlier for our "Saturday" conversation, but she hadn't been her normal self. She was polite as we chatted but she seemed distracted and distant.
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Nina Collins tossed and turned in bed. She glanced at the clock: 2 a.m. Downstairs, clanged dishes and opening doors, which she knew was her 22-year-old grandson, Billy, and his drunken buds coming in from a night of carousing. Nothing out of the ordinary.
Nina wasn't happy about the sleep interruption, but was happy to have Billy with her for the summer after graduating college in her seaside home, giving him a rest and knowing he'd be setting out on his own soon enough, leaving his parents and them far behind as he found a new life.
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I hadn't thought about this in years. I've been married for 15 years and stories about ex-girlfriend's and their mothers are not the kind of thing you brag about at the dinner table. The thing that brought this memory back was meeting this particular mother in the mall parking lot. I was getting out of my car and I saw this old lady coming toward me. She seemed familiar. "Mrs taylor?" I said.
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