Your erotic stories

I wanted to grab a fucking bottle of vodka and chuck it. Or throw it. Or burn it. Extraordinary stress, huh? Yeah that is what I am feeling. Damn pissed off at Daniel. We had an argument last night about where we are headed and in the midst of it, he said we should part ways for a while.

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Every time I tried to bring up a Valentines Day date with Chris, somehow we ended up not discussing it. It wasn't that he changed the subject, not at all, but somehow I would look back ten minutes later and realize that we didn't talk about it. It was very sneaky of him, perhaps. Or maybe he just happened to be pretty scatterbrained lately.

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PART 1 I race to a halt and stand panting outside the office. My feet are killing me. These new high heels are not made for sprinting. Gulping a few nervous breaths, I smooth down my pink top and white mini. The door is ajar but I knock anyway then take a few steps back. I look down at my fluffy pink purse swinging back and forth across my thighs as if it's as anxious as I am to get this thing over with. The door jerks open and I watch two slightly scuffed, black shoes step towards me. I dare not look up.

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