Mature

She had been my best friend, my companion, my wife and bar none the best lover I had ever had. We had been together for over 30 years, wonderful years, except for the last one when cancer was slowly and inexorably consuming her once marvelous body. Now she was gone.

After the funeral we gathered at her sister’s house, friends, family, business acquaintances. I smiled as best I could, was friendly and cordial as I knew she would want me to be and accepted their kind thoughts and

Right from the top I want you to understand that my intentions were never anything but good. I never planned, nor even desired what took place to ever happen. It just did.

I had been Rochelle’s Youth Pastor for 5 years. She was 13 when I accepted the position at the church. A skinny little girl who hadn’t even developed much physically yet. Boy how times had changed, but I’ll talk more about that later.

I had walked she and her family through a lot over the years. Her moms

Chapter One: Unrecognizable.

“I don’t usually drink,” said the woman in the passenger seat, and the voice was just as slurred as it had been when she said the exact same sentence a half hour ago.

“I know,” I replied, keeping my eyes on the road and being extra careful, because even though I had very little to drink and would pass any breathalyzer test, the last thing I wanted to do was to have to do stupid human tricks on the side of the road for a state trooper.

At eighty-two years old, I thought all I had left to do was wait to die. When I got real sick, the agency sent over a girl to take care of me for a few hours a day. Ginger was one of those real brainy girls who graduated from high school when she was fourteen, got a degree in pre-med by the time she turned eighteen. She was working for the agency to help pay her way through medical school. It was nice having someone to visit with and she wasn’t hard to look at, either.

In the course of

What a lucky kid. I thought as my son bustled through the door of our entryway. He was laden with bags of luggage, grumbling about how he had married an overpacker. His wife followed him carrying two suitcases, her blonde hair falling in her face. The pair bustled up the stairs into the spare bedroom.

I walked out to their Lexus and saw they had gotten most of the bags in. There were just two left. A brown suitcase in one hand and a black gym bag over one arm and I was in.

Rachel was coming

Mike parked in the driveway and walked up the front stairs and through the door. As he opened it, he found the house in silence, as it usually was. Where Debbie, his girlfriend was, was anyone’s guess; he supposed that Jennie, Debbie’s eighteen year old daughter, was out with friends. He smiled absently, thinking to himself that everything was just as it should be.

Debbie was Mike’s girlfriend, but she didn’t act like most girlfriends did. She slept on the couch at least

I am kneeling on the bed in a seedy Motel room where my new husband has left me. We just got married an hour ago, and before our honeymoon, he insists on stopping here.

Rodney and I graduated from school this week, and after loving one-another for four years (limited sexual activity), we have certain things already planned out. This Motel is not something we planned together!

I still have on my full wedding dress attire except for my heels . My long white dress is bunched up over my creamy

“You probably think I’m too old for you.”

I paused to consider. The fact was: he was too old for me. He was more than twice my age. I had dated men a little older than me, but I usually stuck with men under thirty. There was also the fact that Aaron was the Santa

At eighty-three Geoff Weetman was still active, admittedly not as spry as in his youth and with a lot of curses for the stiffness of his joints, but active nevertheless. Although a member of a number of social clubs and groups, he was lonely and had been for the past fifteen years following the death of his wife, he smiled at the memory of her. Their time together had sped by, it had been a shock when she had been found to have cancer, she’d died within a year of the diagnosis and right

Some years ago I worked at a small engineering firm. One of the typists there was called Barbara, and she did most of the typing for me. I was about 25 at the time and she was coming up to retirement. She was a small lady, and had put a bit of weight on round the middle. She had quite a large bust which she didn’t try to hide, and usually wore a skirt and blouse. One day we were doing stocktaking and we were in the production office. There was the usual girly calendar on the wall (not