Your erotic stories

Jude had gotten through the second set at The Spot in Chelsea the same way he had gotten through all of Logjam's concerts in the last two decades—riding a high on the music, the roar of the crowd, beer, and poppers. If the proportion of beer and poppers had been relentlessly creeping up over the last fifteen years, it had been too gradual for Jude to notice it, or too scary for him to acknowledge it.

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I had finally returned to the grounds of Oakton Park to scatter Luke's ashes.

We had spent the last two months of Luke's life in a small cottage in the grounds of the main house, and it had been Luke's wish that the grounds should be the final resting place for his ashes. I had wanted them to go somewhere that I could return to to mourn him. But in those last weeks he had been insistent. And I couldn't break the promise he had forced me to make to him.

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