Your erotic stories

It was as I was returning from a trip up to Manchester that I saw the sign: 'Stewartby Park Prestige Hotel'. I vaguely remembered hearing that the old place had been converted, some years after she died, but it hadn't really hit home to me until that moment. Before I'd even realised it I'd swung the car between the gate posts and started up that familiar wide, sweeping gravel drive, framed by rhododendron bushes. After a few hundred yards I rounded a corner and saw again the huge, sprawling former stately home I'd last set eyes on more than 30 years earlier, its crooked Tudor chimneys silhouetted against the afternoon sky.

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The bride worried that she would shatter. She felt as fragile as the glass bottles of oils and perfumes set out for her bath--a bath she didn't welcome, and one she knew would never make her feel clean. In the water, a gilded lion gushed rose-scented water from his mouth. Julia had always thought the fountain beautified the room, but now the lion seemed like he was just another predator waiting to pounce.

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You had to be living under a rock this past year not to know the economy is in the pooper. But even in these economic hard times, people continue to buy houses. So it was when the old two-story cottage beside me went up for sale in the last quarter of 2007. It sat empty for nearly a year until a middle-aged woman purchased the property.

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I'd just showered and put on some make up when I got a text from you. "Just landed, at baggage claim, can I stop by for a bit?" It had been over a week since I'd seen you and I wasn't really expecting to for another day or two. You'd been stuck in California for days longer than you had expected. "Of course" I replied.

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This is an edited version of the original. A comment mentioned that the ending of the original didn't really fit and after reading it a few times, I realized he/she was right and I changed it. I hope you enjoy. "Love has nothing to do with what you are expecting to get - only with what you are expecting to give - which is everything." - Katharine Hepburn, Me: Stories of My Life

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From the moment I saw her hunched over the register, I knew I needed her. Her soft doe eyes awkwardly begged my forgiveness as she pulled the damp fingernail from her pink lips and ran her hand down the side of her worn jeans. A slight smell of menthol cigarettes wafted from her sandy brown hair as she reached for one of the items on the conveyor belt.

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Nanci, I know I wasn't supposed to tell you this. There is this sachet I keep with me, which will be part of the day when I'll finally meet you. I saw it being used in a movie and I plan to introduce it on the first day you'll give yourself to me. I will hide it, away from you prying eyes... on that particular day, I'll make sure we have all the time in the world, the phones will be off, the hotel room door locked, with that "Do not disturb" sign by the handle... alone, just you and me.

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"Hey baby?" Uh oh. I've heard that tone of voice before. Whenever you get that sort of introduction, you know that what comes after it can't be good. It usually is followed by something like, We gotta talk. "We gotta talk," she said. Damn. Here I was, relaxing. I had the game controller in my hand, the bad guys in my crosshairs.

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When I walked into the club for Gina's bachelorette party, I was too frazzled from work to wonder who else might be there. I'd left the office closer to seven than six, ran home to change into my one appropriate dress, and now I was late. A broken chunk of sidewalk almost made me later, but I managed not to fall. I was sure I looked ridiculous as I stumbled towards the door, but I got in without further trouble.

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It had been a year since I'd seen her...months since we'd last spoken. When she walked up to me in the lobby of the hotel where our convention was being held all those feelings rushed back to me in an instant. The heat growing through my body. I tugged at my clothes and patted my hair as I watched her walk towards me with that easy gait. Her strides long and confident. Her clothing all black, just like always.

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