I was sunbathing in my back yard, watching the boys doing yard work. Charley was my neighbor, an 18 year old who helped me out sometimes. He was sweet, and always was nice to me since my husband had run out on me. Ex-husband, excuse me.
It felt weird to be divorced at my age. 27 years old. It wasn't like I deserved it. Of course not. It wasn't my fault.
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Do you know what is worse than being married for five years and not having sex for the past six months, finding out that other men have been having sex with your wife in your bed? My name is Robert, I am 35 years old, five foot ten, thick black hair that starts at the top of my head and doesn't stop until it reaches my toes, green eyes, and a pretty naturally fit body, all compliments from my Italian heritage.
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"Hello, you must be Shayne. I'm Mr. Caldwell's boy, Jerome. Come on in. I'll take your bag to your room. He's out beyond the great room, in the pool. Go on back."
With that welcome, I entered the world of Ted Caldwell, retired supposed master spy, the man I'd been sent to the New Jersey shore to interview over the weekend for Spy magazine.
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Annabelle's cotton sheets have ducks on them. They're not made of as nice of a material as the satin I'm laying on now, but the ducks are so cute and so her. I can imagine Annabelle's face when she'd determined that I stood her up on New Year's Eve. I feel so horrible and so cold.
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Sara's story
I met DeAnn at work. The company always hired temps to have a chance to evaluate them for a while before putting them on regular. I noticed her right away, her dark, brooding eyes and straight, black hair and, unusual for me, I was sort of transfixed by the size of her jutting bosom.
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Tina arrived home to a quiet house. She knew her girlfriend Shay was home not only because her car was in the driveway, but Shay had called her at work and told her to hurry home for a surprise.
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"Hi. What are you doing here?" I heard the familiar voice as I felt the tap on my shoulder. It was the girl who serves coffee to me every day at the local Starbucks. I instinctively stood as I turned to face her.
"Hello. Well, I came to the restaurant for dinner, and since my table won't be ready for a while, I thought I'd come in to the lounge to have a drink and relax. How about you?"
She laughed lightly. "Well, my date was supposed to meet me here over fifteen minutes ago."
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"Redhead by the bar," I nudged Michael. He raised his eyes, found her, then winced. "Too sexy for me?"
He nodded, "Too sexy for you," then slowly sipped his soda.
"I thought so." She looked again in my direction. I froze, caught staring for the umpteenth time.
The first time I noticed her was earlier that night. I was sweeping the pub with my eyes when they landed straight on hers. She smiled, nodded discreetly, and turned away, leaving me confused and embarrassed, as if I had been the one snooping.
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"Good morning Christy," Bryan Jensen said, as he set his briefcase down on the floor next to the receptionist's workstation. Without glancing her way, he began sorting through the stack of correspondence, phone messages and inter-office envelopes that were waiting for him.
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I didn't get into sex when most of my friends did. I'm not sure why, but at thirteen and fourteen when my friends were starting to take an active interest in sex and boys, I just wasn't that interested. I suspect my hormones were late bloomers or something. It wasn't until I was sixteen that I started to feel the urges, and I tried to deal with them at bedtime by touching myself with very little results for some reason.
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