High Voltage
My bus died somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, and I mean the actual middle.
Group Sex stories. Group Sex stories, from quick reads to long series. Reads run 17 to 23 minutes. Writers to know: Storm Story, Indigo Garden and Heather Study. Readers usually start with “The Locksmith's Van” and “The Spite Hike”. 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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My bus died somewhere in the middle of nowhere, Argentina, and I mean the actual middle.
My name is Judy, I'm forty-two, and I've been a flight attendant for nineteen years.
The gate agent said the word "cancelled" like she was reading a grocery list, and then fourteen hundred of us were set loose into the…
I sat on the worn leather couch in The Crypt with a plastic cup of whiskey that had gone warm in my hand.
Piper Byrne was thirty-four years old and had never once driven a car, which was a fact she'd been dodging at parties for a decade.
Fifty hit me on a Tuesday, which felt about right, because Tuesday is the day the yard always runs behind and nobody has time to make a…
The offseason at the Shoreline Motel is slow enough that I talk to the coffee maker.
The last of the guests had gone maybe twenty minutes before, and the quiet that came after was the kind I wanted to bottle.
I'm twenty-seven, I pour beer for a living, and until last Saturday my life had gone beige.
I'd been cleaning cabins for eleven months and I'd stopped feeling anything about it somewhere around month four.
Valerie had planned on spending her twenty-eighth birthday the way she'd spent the last few: a bottle of wine, her phone face down, and…
I've been selling medical textbooks for thirty years, and in that time I've walked into more bookstores than I can count.
I woke up with Helene's arm across my chest and no pants on.
Let me tell you how I ended up locked in a model home with three other adults and no coffee refills, because it makes more sense if you…
Brenna had been on plenty of commercial sets before, and she could say without bragging that most of them were dull enough to make a root…
The accordion case banged against my knee the whole walk from the car park.
The week had been a mess.
Gloria was forty-four years old and she had spent most of those years playing it safe.
The train from London took forever, or it felt like it did.
The Backbeat was the kind of place that smelled like old beer and neon ambition, and Faith hated how much she liked it.