The Duck and the Washer
The basement cinema co-op smelled like dust and popcorn butter, the way it always does.
Crimson Street
Writing from Ohio, usually late at night with ginger beer and espresso. My wheelhouse is Crossdressing, told in first-person past tense in a voice that is warm and a little breathless. Constructive comments and favorites are always welcome. Ranked by how many readers finish them. Some are free to read in full; the rest open with a free preview.
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Stories by Crimson Street
Backseat Confession
So there I was, parked behind the old laundromat on Delancey, at nine on a Thursday night, cursing as if I had just lost a bet with my own…
Objection Sustained
*This one came from laughing about how even the best-laid plans get tossed when you're that into someone.
The Accountant in Tulum
I'm Ruby, I'm twenty-eight, and I do taxes for a living.