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Of Power and Passion
By Megan Hussey
Crouched low above a mahogany desk, Bianca Ferris struggled to focus
on the complex position papers that defined her mayoral campaign.
It’s only a few weeks before the election, she snuck a glance at
a nearby grandfather clock as it tolled the midnight hour, and my
debate with Swindle is tomorrow.
Larry Swindle, the current mayor of Bane City, Florida, was her
opponent in this year’s election. He was also, or so Bianca liked to
joke, the most aptly named man in the history of the free world, if
not the universe. Rumor had it that Swindle accepted bribes from
lobbyists and contractors alike, spending many of these funds on
expensive cars and high-class hookers.
A
number of informants—shady sorts willing to sell her the photos and
info that could cost him the election—had approached Bianca
throughout her campaign. She rejected them all; a seasoned law
professor and community activist, she was determined to run a clean
campaign.
The only problem is the old bastard has been in office so long,
she snorted, part and parcel of the Old Boys Network, I wonder if
I even stand a chance.
The
opening of her office door disrupted her troubled meditations; a
gentle, unobtrusive sound that made her jump in her seat
nonetheless. Soon she faced the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
The muscular, green-eyed hunk dwarfed the surroundings with his
towering height; his long ebony hair flowed free across broad,
silk-clad shoulders.
“May I help you, young man?” Bianca’s eyes took a leisurely walk
down his sleek, muscular frame.
“Oui, Madame.” He further charmed her with his thick French accent.
“I am here to answer your ad for an administrative assistant.”
“Excellent.” Bianca beamed a warm welcome. “May I see your resume?”
The
man’s charming smile dissolved, and he looked for a moment like a
naughty student caught without his homework.
“Actually, Madame,” he leaned forward, charming her with his full,
sensual lips and the flash of his green eyes, “I am new to this
country, and have not had the opportunity to put together a resume.”
“Well, hey, I always said resumes were overrated anyway.” Bianca
chuckled, acutely aware of his nearness. “Perhaps you could tell me
your qualifications.”
She
sucked in her breath as, in an impulsive move, he surged across the
desk and seared her lips with a hot, fierce kiss.
He
released her and pinned her with a sly grin. “Actually, Madame, I’d
far rather show you.”
In
a sleek catlike move, he dropped to his knees and slid beneath her
desk. He rolled her chair back against the wall, allowing him better
access to her body. She tensed with excitement as he slid her
pantyhose slowly down her legs, taking her foot into one able hand.
Bianca sighed as he suckled her toes and nibbled her tired legs;
easing the tensions that plagued her day and night. He really
‘eased’ her a moment later, as he slid between her legs and snared
the border of her panties with his succulent lips. Soon the panties
lay discarded on her shag white carpeting, and he rubbed her thighs
with attentive fingers.
He
next graced her closed feminine folds with a long, resounding lick,
prompting them to open before him. Bracing his hands on her slender
waist, he fixed his lips around her exposed nub and suckled
lovingly, drawing forth the sweet juices of sin.
------------------
Turning Cards
By
C. Margery Kempe
Melanie stifled a yawn
as she fit the Goddess Tarot back into its box. It was near the end
of the psychic fair and she was looking forward to heading to the
diner with her fellow readers. It was the kind of night she allowed
herself to indulge in greasy, unhealthy food, like the chili cheese
fries Melanie could nearly taste even now (and would no doubt taste
for a few hours afterward). She looked over at Sarah who was smiling
at a latecomer, and not just because they had had a fantastic night
raising money for the literacy fund.
The guy was gorgeous!
Melanie sat up, her
fatigue forgotten. When Sarah turned around to check the tables,
Melanie waved to indicate her availability. The customer smiled and
walked over, giving her the chance to take him in: medium height,
light brown hair, a bit thin but fit, not bony. He had on khaki
shorts, despite the autumn chill, and a T-shirt with an image of a
raven. Melanie recognized it as the logo of a local winery, but she
took it as a good sign anyway. Bird men were good. As he sat down,
his hazel eyes caught hers and he smiled. His face was open and
friendly, although he had a big scar that went from his lip about an
inch into his cheek.
“Hello, I'm Melanie,”
she said, rising to extend her hand and her reliably infectious
grin.
“Kieran,” he responded,
grasping her hand with warmth and not too much pressure.
Melanie hated guys who
tried to crush your hand to show their manly strength and boyish
insecurity. Kieran let his eyes flit almost imperceptibly over her,
no doubt taking in her generous form and the inviting cleavage
revealed by her favorite green velour dress. Her amber necklace
framed it well, bringing out the gold of the embroidery that circled
the neck and sleeves.
“Irish?” Melanie
continued, sitting back down. She liked the way his smile sat
somewhat crookedly on his face and the impatient way he shoved the
hair back from his brow. He was seriously cute.
“Half,” Kieran said,
settling on the other chair. “My mother's family is Estonian.”
“A great combination.”
“Unusual, certainly,”
he agreed. “Two small countries with very firm ideas about music and
storytelling.”
They both laughed.
Melanie was pleased to find he had an easy, relaxed laugh. That and
his warm voice were a killer combination.
“So, how do we do
this?”
Melanie spread her
hands, palms up. “First, you need to choose a deck.”
Kieran leaned forward
and examined each of the half dozen choices before him. People
usually went for the most colorful ones, so Melanie was surprised
when he tapped her favorite well-worn deck. The battered cards felt
like old friends in her hands and she trusted their wisdom
completely.
She picked up the deck
and felt its energy run through her palms. “Now, shuffle the cards
as long as you like while you think about the question you'd like to
ask.”
Melanie passed the deck
to Kieran and felt a small spark of static snap between them. He
jumped a little, but took the deck and began shuffling the cards
carefully, his eyes on his hands. Melanie took advantage of his
averted gaze to study his face more carefully. He was a little older
than she had first guessed, the laugh lines deeper up close and the
slight crow's feet brushing out from his eyes hinted at a lot of
time spent outdoors.
“Okay,” he said
suddenly, catching her sneaking a look at him and smiling that
crooked smile she was already finding irresistible. “And now?”
“You're sure you know
what you want to ask?”
He nodded.
“Then I lay out the
cards and tell you what it all means.” With practiced ease she laid
out the Celtic Cross spread, flipping each card in turn and
beginning to see the narrative. She heard Kieran mutter “ooh” when
the Death card came up in the fourth position and she shot him a
reassuring look. As she turned over the final card, Melanie smiled
to herself. Things looked good—maybe for them both.
“All right, let's
begin,” she said, setting her elbows on the edge of the table, hands
folding under her chin, eyes on the spread before her.
“I know it's all
metaphorical,” Kieran began hesitantly, “but I'm not fated to die,
am I?” He laughed, but it rang a little hollowly.
Melanie chuckled. “No,
no—Death is indeed a metaphorical card. The position it's in
represents your recent past and suggests a sudden and decisive
change, one that will prove a trial and a certain amount of
adversity. It could be a relationship ended or even a job or career
abandoned recently.”
Kieran looked
surprised, but said nothing.
Melanie went back to the start and began a more comprehensive
overview of the cards.
-------------------
Silver Lining
By
Lex Valentine
The cherrywood desk had
the sheen of expensive wood, gleaming like satin in the light
reflected from the computer monitor. The woman seated at the desk
clicked her mouse emphatically. The monitor flickered as her message
posted to the forum. Leaving behind her online ties hadn’t been
easy, but something in her gut told her it was time.
“And that, as they say,
is that,” she murmured to the computer as she sat back in the plush
office chair in her den.
Maris Woodson didn’t
exactly consider herself to be unhappy, she did plenty of things
that brought her pleasure. However, she also didn’t believe she
would ever have the happy ending which so many others seemed to
have. Though, when she really thought about it, she realized most of
those relationships didn’t last very long anyway. So many divorces
and break ups, so many bitter people.
It became an on-going
challenge trying to find someone to be with when everyone was a
victim of some horrible prior relationship. She didn’t usually worry
about it because she knew, deep in her heart, that the only man she
could have been happy with was never going to cross her path again.
Even with that dark
spot in her past, and the knowledge a coupled future was not hers,
Maris felt she was more than content. She might not have a
happily-ever-after, but she had friends and lovers, sometimes both
at the same time. Her life was good, she wasn’t lonely…except in her
dreams.
In her dreams, the
darkness held her in an unrelenting grasp, and wrapped itself around
her, giving her tantalizing images of what could have been. It
showed her a happiness that she knew did not exist for her, and made
her heart ache until she could barely breathe. She would awaken;
fear wrapped around her like a shroud, and with damp tear tracks on
her cheeks. On those mornings, it took two cups of coffee and
something bad, like doughnuts, to banish the collateral damage from
the dreams. The times between lovers were the
worst; her sense of loneliness grew
as each week passed. When it got so bad she could no longer face the
day, she would take any available, lover, just to chase away the
darkness that hovered, threatening to spill from her dreams into her
daily life.
Still, there were
nights lying in her lover’s arms when the darkness crept in and made
her chest ache with pain. It had happened infrequently when she was
younger, but as the years passed, those nights became more frequent,
as did the dreams. They clouded her emotions for days afterward. The
silver lining she’d always believed to be part of every cloud
started to become elusive.
Over the last year,
Maris had spent hours online. She chatted on message boards and in
chatrooms. She read forums and blogs. She immersed herself in online
communities, trying to keep the darkness at bay. Unfortunately, it
just made things worse. There were so many desperate people on the
internet, people grasping at straws, trying to end their lonely
existences. It felt frightening, and she wondered if that was how
she appeared to others...desperate.
When she realized the
online communities weren’t helping, she decided to quit them, and
left her goodbyes everywhere. Posting the last goodbye was tough,
but she’d done it. Severing her ties with online companions and
friends whom she relied on to keep her loneliness at bay was scary.
However, it was time to make a change in her life, and this was her
first step.
Maris wondered what the
next phase of her life would bring. Perhaps it was time to quit her
job and take her nest-egg on the road. There was a lot of the world
she had never seen. She stared at her computer, wondering if it was
time to type her resignation and just walk away. As she pondered
her choices, a tiny ding let her know she had email. Absently, she
clicked on the little envelope.
“Silver Lining,
I’m sorry you’ve
chosen to quit the forum. I wish you would reconsider leaving. If
you’re unhappy and lonely, I understand. I feel the same way. It’s
the reason I try to connect with people online. My life is good, but
it’s solitary. I often feel as if life is zooming past me while I’m
walking in slow motion. But then, I go to the forum and your posts
are there, shining with humor and intelligence, passion and verve.
Your words make my day, my life, better, and I will miss you.
It goes against the
grain for me to ask you to stay simply because I enjoy you so much,
but I know the forum will never be the same for me once you’re gone.
I just want you to know that you’re right, no matter how dark life
gets, there is a silver lining to every cloud. You’ve been mine.
Wall of Thunder”
Her breath caught in
her throat, her heart raced. Emotion overwhelmed her, and she began
to shake. She reread the words, feeling a strange connection. A
single tear streaked down her cheek as pain and hope spiked inside
her.
Why couldn’t this man be real
------------------------------
The Awakening
by
Christine Dixon
Oh
God, not another boring, uneventful day. I lay staring at the
ceiling dreading the morning before me. It had only been two weeks
since I quit my job. I had to quit. I'd worked my butt off for ten
years only to be overlooked for a well-deserved promotion. My boss
handed the job to a perky little blonde who always seemed to be
fixing her lipstick when she left his office.
I
rolled over and looked at my husband, laying beside me but a world
away. Had it been ten years ago I'd have stuck my hand under the
sheets and woke him up properly. Hell, I might have even stuck my
head under the sheets. He was still gorgeous, just predictable.
But
not this morning. I swung one foot out of bed, but couldn't bring
myself to get up. I wondered what Oprah would do today to break up
the monotony for me. Maybe she'd have the cure for a stale marriage.
If I was lucky George Clooney would be the celebrity guest, showing
off his new skill as a male stripper. I could wish. Maybe I'd watch
Solaris one more time to catch a glimpse of his adorable butt.
The
smell of coffee finally propelled me out of bed and into the closet
to find something to wear before I went downstairs to lecture our
twelve-year-old daughter on her caffeine habits again.
I
did up my jeans, noticing how they were fitting a little tighter
than they had a few weeks ago. I vowed to go for a jog after
breakfast, after Regis and Kelly, after I did the laundry and
dishes and.....I'd jog tomorrow.
My
husband walked over, kissed me on the lips quickly, and mumbled,
“Morning.”
“Do
I look fat in these jeans?” I asked, hoping it was my imagination.
He
looked me over, smiled, and shook his head. “No, babe. You're
perfect.”
I smiled back, wanting him to throw me on the floor, rip my jeans
off and lick me until I came in his mouth. Like we use to do.
Instead, he walked away. I knew what he was thinking. I had gained a
few pounds. I knew I wasn't perfect. So he'd lied.
An
hour later I watched my husband and daughter climb into the car and
drive away. Peace and quiet. It was going to drive me nuts.
I
walked back in through the front door and was about to close it when
I noticed a strange van pull into the driveway across the street.
I'd never seen it before. Curiously, I watched as a gorgeous,
t-shirt and jeans-clad twenty-something guy got out and walked to
the front door.
He
was going to visit Melanie. Bored, middle-class housewife with big
fake boobs and bleach-blonde hair. I wished at that moment I was
her. Wait - I was her, minus the big fake boobs and bleach blonde
hair, and the hunky visitor.
The
sign on the side of the van read POOL CLEANER, but Melanie didn't
have a pool. I closed the front door, pulled the blinds down, and
then peaked through to watch across the street.
Melanie opened the front door before Big Red, a name I
quickly gave the red t-shirt wearing god, even reached the top step.
The grin on her face was more than I could bear. She was going to
get laid while I sat over here drinking my coffee and separating the
whites from the colors.
It
donned on me at that moment. I was not going to separate the whites
from the colors anymore. If my pink underwear turned my husband's
underwear pink so be it. It would be something to talk about at
supper anyway.
But
my pink underwear had been washed a thousand times already and the
only thing they were going to change color was my daughter's cheeks
when I said the word panties at the dinner table.
So
it was 9 am and my neighbor was getting banged and I had no clue
what to even say to my husband at dinner.
I
walked upstairs and sat with my coffee at the bedroom window seat
looking out across the street at Melanie's. I almost choked when I
saw what I know I wasn't supposed to see.
Big
Red's muscular ass was within clear view. He stood in Melanie's
bedroom, naked. Please turn around. Please turn around. I
begged the universe to grant me one wish.
And
for once the universe responded. Big Red turned around. And he was
indeed big. Holy shit he was big. I hated Melanie more than ever at
that moment. Something tingled. What the hell? That usually never
happened unless I had a brand new pack of double d's.
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