"This is a joke." Peter Folkerts was shocked, his face white as a sheet while red blotches appeared on his cheeks. "Miriam, you can't seriously be asking me to do something like that!"
Chapter 4
“Wot no butler, then milady?” I quipped as we entered the large entrance hall, which was not nearly as grand or as imposing as I thought it might be and with not an old family portrait to be seen nor a single suit of ornamental armour on a pedestal. Not even a moth-eaten stuffed Tiger or Moose head looking mournfully down from their respective wall mountings.
Chapter 3
Chapter 2
Of course, Mandy had said it wasn’t necessary, but I had insisted. I suppose that in my mind, I was still somewhat uncomfortable about the whole business and the apparent ease my dreadful secret had been picked apart by this formidable woman. Anyway, if nothing else, good manners dictated that I should accompany my unexpected visitor down the drive to the entrance gate.
Chapter 1
“Do you mind if I come in and take a look?”
Amanda had a momentary incongruous thought about her twin brother: “Well at least he’s not trying to fuck me.”
Not incongruous for the reasons you might expect. It’s not that he was her brother. The fact that he would fuck her if she let him had been long established.
The planning has been lengthy, not the planning so much as the negotiation and the convincing them to do this, that I want it, need it and crave it. They say it's kind of insane and I know they are right, I've admitted it right there in our chat log more than once. Part of me wonders what they look like, who they are in "real life" but a bigger part of me doesn't need to know, doesn't want to know, that was always part of the fantasy.
Pinki
‘To be or not to be, that was the question’ or at least the line that came unbidden into her mind every time she saw that vast illuminated billboard. To feel justifiably proud or embarrassed? That particular line and ‘Romeo Romeo wherefore art thou’ were the only bits of Shakespeare she could recall from her intermittent high school days. Oh, and wasn’t there something about somebody seeing a dagger in one play about a murder?
The make-over -
I awoke to a pounding, throbbing feeling in my head, like my skull wanted to split itself apart. I opened my eyes but was only greeted by more darkness. I tried to move but found myself strapped down to some kind of chair. My wrists and ankles clamped down so tight that I couldn’t move them at all. I tried to yell but my throat was dry and parched so much that I barely got out a huff.
Inside a small storage room, a female electrician is working over the malfunctioning fuse box. Her blonde hair is caught in a hasty ponytail and covered with a cap to keep away some of the sweat that’s dripping on her tired face.
Emery is an attractive, 35-year-old single mother, even though it does not appear so at the current time. Her face is covered with dust, dirt and sweat from the unkept, unventilated closet room that the suburban house’s electric controls are. Emery does not have neither time nor funds for make-up or any beautification.