Fiction Archives / Stories 40-21

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Symmetry
by Galloway
"He watched as out of the shadows of the man-made cliff the third lioness stalked forward through the tall grass, her proud head low between her shoulders, her powerful flanks swaying slightly as she moved. Her eyes were intense, almost lambent in the cool pre-dawn light. As she approached he felt the nervous prickling of his skin, the rush in the blood that was both fear and excitement." A zookeeper's fearful and irresistible affection for a lioness, by Galloway.

Sex is a Trophy your Mother Won Twice
by Roscoe Kandowski Jr.
"I wasn't sure if Frank was hip to his mother banging his friend. When I came downstairs I learned otherwise, and after thinking about it, it was pretty obvious. Frank's mother was a whore, and Little John fucked most of our mothers, their husbands dead or alive, except mine of course because, like I said, she was born again."

A Different Kind Of Nirvana
by William Starr Moake
"A few weeks ago Dick's two daughters came for a visit. Lynne was 19 and not much of a looker: short hair cut butch-style, glasses, bone skinny. But Christy was a real beauty. She had long blonde hair, a baby face and a body that was too perfect for a 16-year-old. San Quentin quail, as they say in California, and quite a tease to boot." An ex-cop seeks-to-rein-in-unruly-bratcats tale, by novelist William Starr Moake.

One In The Same
by Brian Francis Ferguson
"Of course Maggie loved her brother, and was even in love with him, she supposed (her twin brother, she’d fondly emphasize, suggesting to herself a cosmic simpatico between them she hoped would absolve her of the stigma of her creepy lusts) and had so much as vaguely entertained a crush on him since they were teenagers..." A brother and sister awaken to their love for one another tale, by Brian Francis Ferguson.

Coyote Blues
by Susan DiPlacido
"That black yawning chasm that would seem unbearably dreadful if it wasn't broken up with the litter of glittering stars. I'd never seen anything like it before. [...] You look up and it stretches beyond you, around you. That's when you realize it's a vastness that goes forever; encircling, encompassing. Encroaching. Infinity, looping around and looming tight. That's when the eerie howls are most welcome." A Vegas girl falls in love against her will tale, by novelist Susan DiPlacido.

Steel Trap Pussy
by Colleen Chen
"The expression on his face combined with his stare was making her nervous. Her voice trailed off as she gazed back at him. What was that strange, unfamiliar expression on his face? Could it be...lust? It was somehow different, though, and more intense–those flared nostrils, the way his lips were drawn back the slightest bit from his teeth–he looked almost...animal, like a panther who’d spotted his prey after a long, dry hunt. Marnie’s heart leaped wildly in her chest." A girl's-steps-to-sustain-the-interest-of-her-lover tale, by Colleen Chen.

Derailed
by Eric Grant
"The client was a talker, one of those annoying types who felt inclined to lead some sociological study, or who believed they were cool asking a call-girl about her past, thought they were treating her like a human being. 'What got you into the business? Can you do it out of pleasure sometimes?—Oh! Of course, I don’t expect you to do so with me, I was just curious...'" An educated call girl ponders her options tale, by Eric Grant.

Birthday Girl
by Galloway
"She wondered for a moment why she never wore crimson lipstick to the office, why she always chose the same restaurant for dinners out. She was complacent, she realized suddenly, bored with herself, her responses. She itched for change, not for novelty, per se, but simply to set her feet off of the path. She wished deeply for her boyfriend to startle her. She missed the elation of not knowing what was under the wrapping paper..." A bored-girl's-birthday-surprise tale, by Galloway.

Scenes From A Writer's Life
by William Starr Moake
"I have the scars to prove I learned the truth about writing as a career. I looked behind the curtain and recognized the Wizard for what he was -- a troll who plays evil tricks on us. I continue to write, but I do it out of spite. Living well is the best revenge, but living well is beyond my means and I want my revenge anyway. One way I get it is convincing new writers to see the mess they stumbled into like gullible idiots." A reflections-on-writing tale with Hawaiian interludes, by novelist William Starr Moake.

Sidewalk Funeral: A New York Cab Driver's Tale
by Steven Edward Duescher
"Some people, especially those a trifle the worse for wear on a Friday or Saturday night, think of cab drivers as their personal chauffeurs and confidants and lackeys and buddies and psychoanalysists and nurses, simply because they're paying a measly fare. In the blink of an eye a complete stranger can be clinging to me like I'm his last friend on earth; and sometimes it really brims over, one clinging pest after another seeking to wring the lifeblood out of me." A cab-driver-seeks-to-stay-sane tale, by Steven Edward Duescher.

Hope
by Corey Mesler
"It was then I grabbed that perfect ass for the first time and pulled that young girl against me. My hands held her there, digging into her rump with animalistic fervor. It was the most delicious thing I had ever held. I say that now, even after everything that has happened. Hope Douglass' ass was made to drive men wild and I was smitten with it and her simultaneously." A married-man-messes-with-a-teen tale, by Corey Mesler.

Radio Talks to the Lonely
by A.W. Hill
"The woman’s doorbell rang. That is, Harry knew it had rung because she raised her head like a gazelle sniffing danger, the tendons in her long neck taut with anticipation, the wooden spoon still in her hand. The thought struck Harry: do beasts of prey have an affinity with their predators? Can a creature seek out pain as an innoculation against fear?" A voyeur-finds-a-willing-window-playmate tale, by novelist A.W. Hill.

Train Explosion
by Janet Raquel
"With my gold uptown hoops dangling, my tank top dripping and tight Jordach jeans piercing my inner thighs, I drew my weapon, that sardonic smile that daddy always said could bring men to their knees. It was clear once I entered, that the frustrated business men, felt a surge of sex bulge between their loins as they all grabbed their newspapers and made room for me. Could they smell or simply tell that I had yet to be 'had'?" A-girl-bids-bye-bye-to-maidenhood tale, by Janet Raquel.

A Cultivated Garden
by Robert B. Hazelton
"You haven’t found love in this life. You don’t believe in it anymore. Such a frivolous waste of time, isn’t it? Love’s just a measure of a man’s vanity to get a woman to go to bed with him and a woman’s tool to not have to live with her parent’s for the rest of her days—to not be a spinster. A way to escape the lot of a life that’s been bound to servitude by social standards. Love’s not a state of being or an attainable virtue, it’s a weapon of statecraft and the eternal struggle between the sexes." A world-weary-damsel-contemplates-self-destruction tale, by Robert B. Hazelton.

Confessions of a Nihilist
by William Starr Moake
"I think I was born a nihilist. Of course, the public image of a nihilist is a ridiculous stereotype: rebel without a cause, mad bomber, etc. I am a rebel only in my mind and I have never purposely injured anyone. In my daily life I lead a quiet existence and conform to most of the idiotic expectations of my fellow man. As one sociologist observed, mores develop a life of their own. Few people actually agree with them, but each person thinks that everyone else does." An absorbing riddle of attraction tale, by novelist William Starr Moake.

Surrender
by Alicia Night Orchid
"The first time I masturbated was with a book in one hand and my pubescent pussy in the other. I came right along with Molly Bloom and the whores in Anais Nin’s house of love. Once in college, I placed a hard copy of Lady Chatterly’s Lover, borrowed from the library, between my pantied thighs. Kneeling over it, I rocked back and forth, while the girls in the next room played Leonard Cohen’s Future."

Madman
by Amber Hipple
"Years ago we were young. I can still see vestiges of that youth in his eyes, in his generous mouth and his slightly crooked teeth. When he smiles I see the man I loved, but he threw it away. For one night with her. One indiscretion cost him everything and I wonder if he regrets it." An unpleasant reunion and violated trust tale, by Amber Hipple.

24/7 (excerpt from the novel)
by Susan DiPlacido
"He goes hard and deep, working my upper lip, lower lip, then slipping me some tongue, making my blood sing. I kiss back because suddenly I can't get enough; head dizzy, legs weak, I take hold of his sides and now I'm tugging at his waist, sliding my arms further around his back so I can press up against him. He's spectacular at it. Salty, and tangy from the booze, and bitter from the smokes and he's kissing and biting and sucking and licking all at once." Susan DiPlacido honors us with an excerpt from her novel, 24/7 (Zumaya Publications, 2005).

The Preacher's Wife
by R. G. Larsen
"They walked through the empty church. It had grown dark out and only streetlights shone through the stained glass windows as they went through the sanctuary and up onto the dais that held the altar. He felt the warmth from her hand. It felt good. He was afraid she'd let go. He didn't want the hand holding to end, vows or no vows. 'I come here often at night, when the church is quiet and everyone has gone home. Isn't it beautiful?'"

When Mothers’ Backs Are Turned
by Chester Jones
"'Not that there’s anything wrong with being seen as a sex object by your boyfriend,' adds Victoria. 'Quite the contrary, in fact. It would be a fine state of affairs if he preferred doing the gardening to watching you undress. There’s only a problem if he only sees you as a sex object. But I don’t see how we are contributing to any such attitude. I’d certainly never put up with it in any man I dated – any more than I’d put up with him not getting an erection when I take off my bra.'"

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