Snowbound with the Aurora
The forecast had said light snow, flurries tapering by evening, which is the kind of thing a forecast says right up until it lies to you.
Erotic Couplings stories. Erotic Couplings stories, from quick reads to long series. Reads run 15 to 20 minutes. Writers to know: The Delta Garden, Velvet Lodge and Reed Chaser. Readers usually start with “Taste of the Bitter Herb” and “The Pasta Cutter”. 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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The forecast had said light snow, flurries tapering by evening, which is the kind of thing a forecast says right up until it lies to you.
I was forty-four years old and wiping down pool filters on a Friday night.
The bus dropped me at the end of the gravel road at four in the afternoon.
Craig here.
The first thing I knew was the smell of gasoline and Callie's hair, all mixed up together, which is not a smell they bottle anywhere but…
*This one's for the people who've spent a night with a stranger and never regretted it, even when the morning hurt.
I woke up at dawn in a bed that wasn't mine, with my shirt missing and one sock on and one sock off, and for a good thirty seconds I had…
Yolanda's bus dropped her at the end of Paloma Bay's main street at four in the afternoon, and she stood there a minute with her duffel…
Okay so here's how my Saturday night started, standing in a tamale kitchen in a rented tuxedo, sweating through a starched collar like an…
My name is Hilary Fox, I'm twenty-nine years old, and I was pacing the promenade deck of a ferry as if I'd lost my keys, my wallet, and my…
The match happened on a Tuesday, I remember that much because Tuesdays are the night I teach beginners and the app never got any action…
The apartment I rent has good light and bad acoustics, and by that I mean the walls don't do anything to help you.
I drove three hours for a bowl of soup.
I'm thirty-two years old and my big Friday night plans involve a folding chair, a beer, and a fire escape.
I met Vera at twenty-one, in a community ceramics class held in a church basement that smelled like wet clay and old coffee.
I'm Ida.
*This one came from a weird day where I kept thinking about courthouse hallways after hours, all that institutional authority, just…
The email said the hackathon was at a piano restoration shop, which I figured was some kind of joke until I looked it up.
The Olympus Hotel smells like carpet cleaner and ambition, and I drag my suitcase across the lobby at seven on a Sunday night, already…
I stayed late that Tuesday.
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