Barbara Clausen woke with the first light of dawn as it crept through the curtains. Moving slowly and carefully, she slipped from under the sheet and swung her feet to the floor. She stood and tip-toed to the chair where her clothing lay. She donned her dress, picked up her underwear, pantyhose, shoes and purse and left.
Heather walked into the quiet little coffee shop that day to meet her best friend Shannon, noticing immediately that she had claimed a booth in the back.
"Heather! I'm so glad you could come and meet me on such short notice! Please come and sit down."
"No offense, Shannon, but this had better be as important as you said it was. I had to reschedule some very important meetings to come here today and my boss is oh, so pissed."
They sat across from one another in the wooden booth in the dark tavern. They had been there for a couple of hours now, drinking and talking, feeling their way through the situation. It was storming outside and the lights flickered off and on in the tavern.
He was tall, dark, and handsome, not traditionally so but by sheer strength of character and control.
Becky was sitting on the edge of the dresser with her arms folded in front and a scowl on her face.
"I don't understand why you won't go. You love Buckingham's Ale House. She said in a pleading tone.
"I'm just not up for it, that's all, I'm...ah, little under the weather." I said very weakly.
Buckingham's represented an old way of life that no longer existed for me.
Attorney at Law, K. Anderson never smiled. In fact, she never showed much emotion at all.
She was rumored to be cold hearted and vicious. Whether she actually was or not, ultimately was irrelevant. She was one of the most powerful attorneys this side of the Mississippi river, a senior partner in one of the most influential law firms in the country, Benter, Johnson, Anderson and Holgate. She had everything money could buy, though she never struck him as the flashy type.
I was a college freshman going to a school about 200 miles from home in the North western part of Michigan. The college did not allow freshman to have a car on campus, so anytime that I wanted to go home for the weekend I either had to find a ride home with another student or hitchhike. This spring weekend in particular I decided at the last minute to hitch hike to my home located in rural southeast Michigan.
Sarah, getting dressed for work in her lawyer blues, decided life was not over. Just because her husband decided, at 35, that the priesthood was his real calling in life, why should her life be over? She hadn't had intercourse in three months and, while she knew about fellatio and cunnilingus, those experiences were really distant memories.
The man interviewing me was a good looking man. Not a gorgeous man, but a good looking man. His musculature showed he worked out, but still he carried about ten pounds more than his ideal weight. Brown hair, a couple of inches shy of six feet, good nose, thin lips. He did have beautiful blue eyes.