CHAPTER 91
It had to be a big do, of course, but nowhere near as big as I was frightened of. What stunned me was the sheer number of people I was now thinking of as essential to my life, and that was thrown into greater relief by the close shave I had passed through before Ginny had moved in.

I sat on my bed, while I was thinking through my whole weird situation. Finally all the tranquilizers they'd pumped up my veins last night finally slowly wore off, but still remained active enough to not let me completely freak out again.

 
Moon Harper - Part 1
 
by Armond
 
 
Was it chance that brought Sean to Tamsin Caroline's fabulous New England rental house, just in time for the height of the fall folliage? Luck that granted him this space to jam one last time on his harp before he embraced his role as a corporate drone? Or was it his heritage that reached up and grabbed him by his ...harp strings... to force him down a more intersting path?
 

How insidious is evil? Can it become genetic? Can good be genetic? Where does that leave freedom of choice?

CHAPTER 90
We had to wind down in the end, and separate, with fierce hugs and promises to be home more often, and that word suddenly rang true to me. Home had become a simple concept: wherever I was with Eric, that was my home. Our house in Surrey, a tent at Shrewsbury, they were all I had believed I needed.

Chapter two:

Yet another girl came into the room and introduced herself. “Hi, I am Lilli, and these are for you.” I was honestly thinking that I must be the new attraction as so many different people came in to gawk at me. Not to say I didn’t gawk at Lilli, she was short, I mean real short, but not a child, not with those breasts, and shockingly bright pink hair.

I unwrapped the package, a pair of panties, sports bra, and sweat suit. All in pink, all bearing “Hello Kitty” logos. “You have to be kidding!”

Author's note: This one has some strong themes that might upset more gentle people. Reader discretion is advised.

Yes, Dear

Joseph Fournier was finishing his evening tea when his wife Mary suddenly shouted at him, “Slave!”

He stiffened, and became still. Mary came up to him and waved a hand in his unblinking face. He made no movement, and she smiled. “”Tell me, whose slave are you?” She said.

“Yours” he replied in a monotone.

“It worked!” she laughed. “Go put your cup in the sink, and then come back here.”

 
Che Amore
by
Lesley Renee Charles

 
 
I leaned over the balcony overlooking the Fora Romana. I was looking at the ancient ruins, imagining what it must have been like back then. Imagining what it must have been like for a woman back then.