I make coffee in my kitchen while the wan light of early morning on the lake filters through the louvers of the Venetian blinds in the cottage. It's the last of my Blue Mountain, a gift from the griot, Kayode 'Kayo' Mackenzie of Hilton Head Island. I want it for...
"Bernard? Are you there?" Marguerite whispered. There was no answer. The dusk was filled with crickets chirping. She looked out into the shadowed garden and clutched her shawl more tightly about her shoulders. She crossed the wide porch, walking around one of the tall...
Will Ryan raised his chin and stretched his neck. He tossed back the shot of Jameson and let it trickle down his throat trailing a mellow burn. He followed it with a sip of Guinness. Tommy the bartender busied himself wiping glasses and checking his stock. Will...
I looked down at the thick veins and age spots on my hands. Would he be disgusted if I were to wrap my lascivious swollen fingers around his cock. He's in his early thirties, I'm a shade away from fifty. I am so attracted to him, I tremble when he's near. He's blond,...
As we passed through Cloquet around midnight, a few people got off and went into the bus station in the falling snow and the dark, and a woman in her forties or so got on and took the seat next to me. I didn't really feel like talking but she began chatting about the...
It started as it always did - with the fall of night. Shadows crept in from the west as darkness gathered in the east. Colours faded and a chill crept into the air. People rushed home from their day, be it of work or play, while others awoke to prepare for the...
Her village was a poor one — poor and useless — like her. Her grandmother had told her that, once long ago, it had been prosperous. Then the war came and with it the soldiers, the planes, the powder that fell from the sky and the sickness that followed. Grandmother...
I called him de la Rosa, though I wasn't sure that was his name. He told me it was what he preferred to be called. So be it. I was in the business of pleasure—in particular, the pleasure of men. Bless their strange, unknowable hearts. If there is one thing I have...
Let me say up front here, before I get on with my recollections of Mrs. Priestly, and before you form an opinion, that I am not particularly proud of the fantasies I held back then, around that same time, about these things which I called Fuck Units. I mention this...
Tears squeezed out of Wendy's tightly closed eyes. They tracked down her round cheeks and puddled in the hollow of Jack's gray-haired chest. Jack felt the pool of warm, wet tears hovering over his heart. They seemed to seep down into his flesh, killing his resolve...