Amber was sitting on the subway train going into the city. All seats were taken and some passengers were standing.
Amber saw a young business woman, about 30 years old, standing about eight feet away facing in Amber's direction. What a stunning woman, thought Amber. She was dressed in a dark gray suit that couldn't hide the shapely body beneath it.
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"It's only going to be a few guys over to watch the UK Basketball game." I said.
"Autumn wants to come over and she is in the mood to play." Becky whispered in my phone.
Now my libido went into overdrive. Becky had told me that Autumn had gotten some toys at a naughty wedding shower last week. My dirty mind went straight to Becky, Autumn, me and toys. But I could not tell the guys no.
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He stretches himself out, the sheets rustling as he flexes his muscles and lets out a long yawn. Nick smiles at the smooth, warm form resting at his side. Glancing over, he sees her red hair spilling across her face and pillow, her creamy white skin exposed to the air. She moans and moves closer to him, one arm draped across his chest while one leg slides up along his own.
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Andrew Weston was not a man to trifle with. Neither was Alison: his stepdaughter. It was as if they had been fashioned from the same cloth and they understood each other perfectly: often trying to outmaneuver each other in a game of one-upmanship. Both were self assured and attractive to look at.
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We had just finished the last workout before tryouts, and I wasn't sure whether I had done enough to impress the coach. Maybe a little kissing up was in order? It was August, and I was one of dozens of incoming freshmen trying out for Big State's cheerleading squad. I had been the captain of my high school squad, and cheerleading was the highlight of my high school experience.
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As I sit at my desk this morning, I can hardly believe what's happened over the past 24 hours. And it's not as if my life isn't often filled with excitement. But even by those standards, the last day has been extraordinary.
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Greg waved goodbye to his wife, Susan, as she backed her Camry out of the driveway. Before she was even out of the driveway he started planning his weekend. He couldn't remember the last time he had the house to himself for an hour, much less a whole weekend. But he figured it might happen more often.
His daughter was a senior in High School now and his son was away at college spending way too much money and probably partying his ass off.
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“Here’s a picture of me at Mt. Rushmore.” The girl in the picture was a High School aged version of my Jan. The similarities were obvious, though over 10 years had passed since this photo was taken.
It was a rainy Saturday afternoon; our planned picnic had been aborted. Looking for something to do after a morning of sex, Jan brewed a pot of coffee and we started going through old photo albums.
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You would like Jordan if you met him. He was a happy, good-natured young man. He was kind and always willing to lend a helping hand. It might not have been a very efficient helping hand, but it was available. He seemed to see the best in everyone and this made him like everyone.
This attitude, plus the fact that he wasn't the brightest spark, tended to make him a target for bullies when he was younger.
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Kelly and I met in our freshman composition class, two eighteen-year-olds sitting in the back of the room trying not to fall asleep together and cutting jokes about our professor as he talked about how his class was an important foundation for our collegiate success, would help us in life, etc., etc. All the same shit that high school teachers tried to tell me.
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