Melody, Bikini Time

There were lots of relatives I never saw or have met before. I was amazed we even had this many people related to us somehow. Since Mom had the bigger family, more of them had showed up for the family reunion. Her family mostly lived in the area while Dad’s were spread out across the country. For some reason Mom’s sisters and brothers seemed to have more female children, most of them about my age.

Chapter 3

Chapter 61: Segregation for Power

Royal Decree of Queen Yuqi

To all dragons of every class and clan:

CHAPTER 12
That really sealed the evening for us, but it left Amina silent in the cab home, which was unusual for her. She did the usual pottering about once we were home, putting away a few bits of crockery, then just led the way upstairs. It wasn’t until we were both settled under the duvet that she started to talk once more.

“I am so, so glad I’m not like those girls, love”

Wychwood - Overstrand’s Offer

One

After Overstrand and Sandy had finished lunch, Overstrand asked Mhairi to come to the library, where he told her that Sandy would be staying at Wychwood to convalesce and finish the diary. As Mhairi listened to Overstrand, Sandy was surprised to see her purse her lips and a flash of what looked like annoyance cross her face.

“Very good, Sir Robert, I will inform the other staff,” she replied when he finished.

After she left, Sandy whispered to Overstrand, “I’m not sure she likes me.” 

An invitation to the Patron Reception leaves Samantha needing a guest—and Samuel facing the question of who, beyond the girls, can be trusted with the truth.

After the unexpected turn of events with the interview, Sarah had asked why Malachite had chosen the name. Colour Sergeant Grant answered with a slightly skewed smile.

“Malachite is spiritual it means the essence of joy. I believe the stone helps to bring personal growth and has benefits when a person decides to change.”

Chapter 32 - Epilogue

After the previous poem, this appeared overnight in an odd sort of backlash. Have fun!

Patricia, Doing It For Love

I was out shopping with my wife, an ordeal that I was not really comfortable with, but one that I thought necessary. My wife of five years is drop dead gorgeous, but dresses like a librarian sometimes. She has C cup breasts, a 38/28/38 figure and a face that belongs on the cover of fashion magazines.

She was a cosmetologist for a while when we first married and knows how to make the most of what she has been born with. Now she is an executive secretary for a prominent lawyer in town.

In the morning I get up.

Not immediately — I lie still for a moment first, the way I've started doing, taking stock of the day before it begins. The chest there, the weight of it against the mattress, familiar now in the manner that things become familiar when you've woken to them for over a week. The mild awareness of last night's underwear, which has done what underwear does now, the slight damp of it, and I get up and deal with this in the bathroom before I do anything else. The mechanics of this have become unremarkable.

I shower. I dress.