Your erotic stories

Chapter 1 Over Christmas and New Years, our neighbors took a holiday in the warmer climes, I certainly can't blame them; here in Wisconsin, it's cold. Their son, Rick, who'd just gone off to college, was not expected to be around with any consistency so they asked me if I would water plants and bring in the mail and such which I was happy to do.

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In eighteenth century English society it was even more difficult for a girl to advance above her station than it was for a young man. Without the proper connections and lineage it was almost impossible for even the most attractive of young girls to marry a man who could give her a life of comfort. Seeing no other way around this dilemma, some parents took the grave risk of sending their daughters to India, where the men who survived the climate and the competition were seeking wives as gorgeous as the silks and gems they carried home as spoils. One of these girls was named Fanny Chamberlain.

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Mark found himself pleasantly surprised by the book in his hands. Though he was a writer of science fiction, he wasn't much of a reader of it. He was on his way to his first science fiction convention to be part of a panel for new writers, a Q and A session about a defunct TV series he'd been a writer for, and he had one autograph session set up. He knew he was just a minor guest, and was reading up on the other authors he'd be sharing the panel with.

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I stood in formation in the hot, stuffy gymnasium: at ease, but hard as hell. The third local official of the day was basically reiterating everything the previous two had said: how proud everyone was of us, that we'd done good work, etcetera, etcetera. I knew I shouldn't feel so fucking ready to get the fuck out of there, but I'd just spent the last thirteen months, seven weeks and four days, thousands and thousands of miles away from the woman of my dreams.

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We were sat alone in the staff lounge. The others had left for class and apparently, like me, she didn't have a class after lunch. She was new to the school. No. She was new to teaching. Twenty-one and starting her new career. The first few weeks back in the new school year had been hard for her. The reality of teaching in a Senior Secondary College was nothing like what she remembered of her schooling.

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Tuesday morning I took special care in getting ready for work; knowing it was Jacks usual day to frequent the library. I'd spent the night (like most others that week) dreaming of Jack's sweet seduction and our "date" last week. Scanning the conservative work clothes in my closet I finally settled on the form-fitting black skirt and the soft red sweater. I was so nervous; it took me several tries just to get the seams straight on the backs of my stockings. The morning seemed to take forever to pass and after lunch I'd stood at my office window, lost in fantasies of Jack.

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