Despite that last kiss no relationship developed between Larry and Bob. Just as well since Bob graduated a two weeks later and moved away for college.

We were at his graduation since Betty was in the same class. After the ceremony Bob came up to Larry.

So Larry was without girlfriend. While I had not expected him to be single for long (what a change from the beginning of the year!) I had NOT expected Bob (the baseball captain) to be the next one to ring the bell and ask for Larry.

I had expected Larry to get into trouble at the studio with his lilac tights. Just shows how clueless I am. The teacher loved that Larry wore lighter color tights. That allowed him to see better how Larry’s leg muscles worked. Black really isn’t a good color to wear in class but tell that to teen boys who already are body conscious. And, of course, the girls in his class loved it even more now that they got a better look at his quite nice legs. Good thing for Larry that he already had a girlfriend. Otherwise he’d have been under siege.

The next day the same three girls invaded the house once more. There was one addition this time. Peter, the geekiest geek imaginable and the closest thing to friend that Larry had had before, had joined them. Peter also wore the very short lilac pleated skirt. And I noticed he had shaved legs. Very recently, and not expertly, shaved legs by all signs.

I confess that I was worried when I sent Larry away to school for the first time in his new short lilac pleated skirt. I was concerned even if his big sister had confirmed everything he had said. Betty had the full inside story. It was really a senior social studies project. Bob, the captain of the baseball team had decided to write a paper on influencing and peer pressure. He had secretly roped in the rest of the team and some other to help him. Could he get the boys in the school to wear a short pleated lilac skirt?

We returned from the mall around two o'clock. As we walked past the garage I was surprised to see the bird statue still sitting just outside the back of the breezeway. As I hurried up to my room to drop off my shopping bags, Mom called out to me. "Don't even think about wearing that cream colored dress in that filthy garage. And don't get any makeup on it when you take it off."

Worm
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Humans have been visited by intelligent creatures from another galaxy. So many people talk about it, so it must be true, and it is. There are many crazy stories out there but so many of them have a kernel of truth. The truth is harder to understand when it is smaller than we imagine.

Photo by Anna Shvets: https://www.pexels.com

Preface

Every so often I check the Retro Classics Page here at BC just to see if I missed a good story. Today there was an entry for Emma Ann Tate's Software Update. Since this story continues my own Reprogramming Your Life, I was interested in the comment.

Now, naturally I couldn't just read the one comment, so I read them all. One by Patricia Marie Allen that included the phrase that inspired and became the title of this piece. When someone asks me 'where do you get your ideas?' they don't know what a can of worms they might be opening. Thanks to all of you for the inspiration.

The Wandering Heart
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The heart is a curious thing. I am not talking about the anatomical organ, but about the feelings that grow and subside, that sometimes burn like fire and sometimes just give us a warm glow, and sometimes go cold as ice.

But how can you fall in love with a man who has abused you? How can you fall in love with a man who has mutilated and maimed you? A man who took away your future as a man and castrated you, and modified you to be his sexual plaything – how can you love such a man?

My Friend Græme

Græme was to all appearances a villain as a young man. Poverty stricken, he stole to eat and to put rags on his back to avoid freezing to death. To me he was always a decent man, for he hurt none and always had done his best to help all and anyone he’d ever met. He’d spent his life being the archetypal Good Samaritan.

Putting up my Hair
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

When I was a young boy, I wore my hair long. My mother did not discourage me because she said that my hair looked lovely, which is what I thought too. But my father hated it. He was always telling me to get it cut and I always resisted. I suppose that says something about my relationship with my father – I felt that he was proud of my older brother, but not me. As far as I was concerned, that made his opinion questionable, so I always questioned him.

When I woke up this morning I groped behind me to make sure my wife was still there in bed. My hand found hers and we gripped each other's hands in a morning embrace, just our fingers entwining. We’re both too old now for much in the way of shenanigans but a touch just gives you that warm feeling of lifelong companionship.

“You OK, love?” I asked her and she smiled at me as she always does.

The man had failed to meet an agreement, so his son would pay the horrible price. Now she, SHE would always be doomed to wear black, to include head covering, face covering, gloves, and floor length gown. The nerves to her vocal cords were cut, so it was intended that she would never speak. They had threatened to blind her and if there was any attempt to escape the curse, they surely would, they threatened.

Five friends and a drinking game . . . . What could go wrong?

My Father’s Debts
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Gambling is an awful addiction, just as bad as heroin. It takes over the mind and you steal from your work, from your family, from anybody to provide money to feed your habit.

My father was an addict and he would play anything. Poker, blackjack, roulette, even slots or the simple draw of a card, roll of a dice, or toss of a coin. It was like wait for the ball to drop or the card to turn was a rush. I have seen it - the wide eyes and the moist brow.

Constructing Eva
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I worked in construction because I had a background in it. My grandfather worked in wood and he had a full workshop in his basement with a bench router and a wood-turning lathe, as well as a band saw, planer and drill press. He had me make little things in wood from when I was small, and when I was older I helped him to build a scale model of a house – just the framing. I wanted to build the real thing.

Roommate Wanted
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

Much to the disgust of my parents I decided to move into the apartment that my wealthy grandfather had left me in his will and lead a debauched life in the city.

I remember that my father said to me – “We cannot change the fact that you are gay. We can only say that we love you and that we ask you to be careful in choosing the people that you associate with.”

Kunoichi
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In Japan, warriors who serve a master cannot be bought and sold, but if in the service of their master they are directed to serve another, then their oath requires that they do so. To explain the strength of obligations created by the code of Bushido Shoshishu may be too difficult to explain to somebody who is not Japanese. To be bushi is to live by a code. Your life, and your body, mean nothing. Duty means everything.

The Isle of the Wise

Lorik had announced at their first evening meal on the Isle, ‘I shall give Godwin till the next full moon to consider his boon.’

‘There is no need, Lorik,’ the young man replied. ‘If she has a mind to it I’d like to take Ailidh to wife. If she has no mind to it I have need of naught, so I’ll ask for naught.’ It was a bold request for Ailidh was Lorik’s second daughter. Many wondered why he hadn’t asked for Ceinwen Ailidh’s elder sister, for Lorik had no sons and marrying the elder girl would make him Lorik’s heir.

‘If she has a mind to it, Godwin, you have my blessing.’

Lane Bryant Magical Transformation Part 2

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Author's notes: I created the idea for this technology a while ago. This story idea came to me this morning. I just kept the idea flowing and maybe later I will come up with other short story ideas like this.
***

My name is Devin. I've been touted as a painting prodigy. The turning point in my career, a moment that would shape my future, came when I had my first gallery show at the tender age of sixteen. Since then, my work has been in high demand, keeping me busy and allowing me to live a comfortable life.

Accustomed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

2002

James McAdam had been dating the girl for a while when she told him about the job opportunity that had amounted to nothing.

“It is a private nurse job for this super rich guy, but despite my qualifications and experience he rejected me when I met him earlier today,” she said. “It would be a great job, because is very rich, very old and very sick, and said to be very generous. But he is looking for somebody special, and it is not me. Perhaps you should apply. You don’t have a real job.”

Stewardess Forever
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I always thought of it as just a fetish. I was a compulsive crossdresser, a transvestite who had found a special way to get my thrills. I wanted to appear to be an airline stewardess.

I remember as a small boy being bounced on the naked knee of a beautiful air hostess (as they were in those days) or perhaps that was just a dream? Anyway, I was fascinated by them from a young age.