Two people pass each other in the darkness of a stormy night, courses locked in for separate disasters. Fate intervenes . . . but is it for good?

CHAPTER 37
We went to the Smugglers, of course, just four of us, Tom driving and promising to collect us if needed. Sod discos and stuff, we took a table in the usual bar. It had been occupied by a group of twinks, but Marlene had simply walked over and said something, quietly for once, and they had picked up their stuff and left for one of the other spaces.

She waved us over, and as we sat, she simply asked if we were her sister’s family.

I woke up with the sunlight blazing through the window, which it normally would not do until around nine.

I was late for school. Really late!

“Mom! What’s happened?” I yelled as I moved to throw the covers off, but there were no covers to throw. I sat up and looked at a bedroom with a lot of whites and grays with some shades of blue on a comforter that still covered the bed. I planted my hands on the mattress, vaulted myself off the bed and onto a hardwood floor.

I did not have a hardwood floor.

Chapter 1
The front door clicked shut, the latch catching with a soft, final thud.
Jane stood by the kitchen island, her hand still resting on the counter where Robbie had left his damp gym towel. She let out a long, slow breath—not a sigh of annoyance, just the sound of a lungful of air giving up after holding steady all morning.

The rain had stopped sometime after midnight, but by late afternoon the city was still wet. Water clung to the black iron railings along the sidewalk and gathered in the shallow cracks between the paving stones, while cars moved slowly through the intersection, their tires whispering over the pavement and sending thin fans of dirty water toward the curb. Inside the coffee shop, the smell of fresh coffee hung beneath the warm air from the heating vents, and the hiss of steamed milk came and went behind the counter as people moved through the late afternoon rush.

The next morning, I faced packing and wondered if I could leave somethings that I had bought behind. I put the thought off as I prepared for my morning jog. Having gotten into a routing with my preparations it wasn’t more than 20 minutes before I was out the door. Although we sort of had discussed my coming back, I wanted to make sure that Sam was happy with me leaving stuff at the house.

I pushed the last ½ a mile and ended up a bit out of breath when I finished. Ted from next door was doing something to one of the cars and waved to me as I jogged up.

“Nice run huh?”

This is the first chapter of a 175 page, 8 chapter, completed book with 68 images, and 48 bonus images after the story. It is currently available in my shop.

www.patreon.com/SissyGirlSammi

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Charli and The “Chocolate” Factory

CHAPTER 35
I was still reliving that break a month later, realising that we had a high bar indeed for good food now, thanks to Madame Boucher, and just as high a set of standards for fantastic places to stay. We had settled on one of those other ideas for our post-nuptial break, flying to Rome for a few days and then taking the train to Florence, Venice, Austria and Germany, flying home from Cologne, where there was apparently a chocolate museum. I joked that it would be an excuse to get her into her ‘barmaid’ uniform, and see if she could yodel. She had slapped my arse and told me to behave, or rather only misbehave in ways she could enjoy.

The paddle is in the bag in the hall closet and I've been looking at the closet door since eight in the morning.

I get it out around ten. The bag has the new paddle in it. It's the replacement I ordered after I put the other one through its edge guard the night this started. I take it out and grip it. The grip wraps the same. The flare of the handle, the weight forward of my hand, all of it as it should be. I bounced a ball off the face a few times in the apartment and it goes where I aim it.

Chapter Nine: Dressing the Part

Three days before the cage

I returned from university in June with a second-class degree, no job and two suitcases full of ordinary male clothes.

Chapter Two

James should have known he was in trouble when Ashley started smiling.

Not her normal smile.

This was the smile she got when she’d already decided something was going to happen and was simply waiting for everyone else to catch up.

James stood in the middle of their apartment living room with his arms folded.

“I still think this is a terrible idea.”

Ashley sat cross-legged on the couch.

“You’ve said that seventeen times.”

“Because it’s a terrible idea.”

“You need a job.”

“I know.”

Chapter One — The Job

James Carter had applied for twelve jobs in three weeks.

Twelve.

He had a spreadsheet.

That was the kind of person James was.

Every application had a date, company, position, hourly wage, estimated hours, and current status. He had color-coded the spreadsheet because apparently engineering students were incapable of doing anything without turning it into a data-management problem.

Unfortunately, the spreadsheet contained a lot of red.

REJECTED.

POSITION FILLED.

NOT SELECTED.