Tami stirred. The morning glow crawled into the bedroom. Lifting her head, she read the time on the clock radio. She had twenty more minutes to snooze. Rolling over, Tami closed her eyes. She wanted to sleep, but she wouldn't. She always hated the restless tiredness that came from sleeping in a strange place. She sighed, knowing that she would just lay here for those precious twenty minutes. Rubbing her eyes, she looked at Shelly's naked back.
The dictionary defines Valentine- a sweetheart chosen or complimented on Valentine's Day. I'm not sentimental or for that matter sensitive. At least, that is what I've often been told. You are so closed off! Unreachable! I disagree. I happen to have had a perfectly good reason for keeping my heart locked up. The problem, in my opinion, was with the people who never tried to slip by the barriers.
"Just come over here!" My best friend, Cassie, could be so impatient at times, and today was no exception. Her voice rang out through my cell phone, "I have to eat some dinner and then we can hang out."
"Okay, fine," I replied. When Cassie wanted to see me she always demanded instead of asked.
Allow me to introduce myself: I'm Heather McCormick and I'm a thirty-something m.i.l.f. living in suburban Atlanta, Georgia. The story I'm about to tell you is the God's honest truth, and I wouldn't lie, because lying is a sin. Six months ago I was a slovenly 158 pounds of bored, impetuous, spoiled housewife. Now I am a svelte 115 pounds thanks to the Wulfwinter Weight Loss Clinic. Here's my story.
It'd been storming outside for what seemed like days. Thankfully, my Dom and I had been well prepared -- we knew what was coming, so we stocked up on movies and groceries. Personally, I love nights like this, when the snow is falling and the world outside looks crystallized and beautiful. I love it even more when I can stay inside with friends or family and spend time together, warm and snug inside away from the chill.
"Hey man, you got a light?" the old guy next to me asked with a hoarse voice. He looked to be about 5'5" tall, overweight, had a head full of roughed up black and gray greasy hair, and a shaggy beard. I guessed his age to be around 50. His jeans and flannel shirt were a little dirty looking.
"Sorry, I don't smoke," I told him.
I had been here a lot since moving back to New Zealand about six months ago. I had been living in Greece, on a sort of working sabbatical from the local university. Since I lived two blocks from here it was the first place I went for a drink after I moved in. Once I walked in I had kept coming back. It was... different I guess.
The name's Jack Wayne. I'm a private detective. It all began on a sweltering Friday in June. I was sitting behind my desk thumbing through a paperback of "9 & 1/2 Weeks" and sipping a glass of bourbon when my secretary stuck her head into the office.
"Hey, Jack." she said in an annoying tone. "Jack, put the book down for a minute!"
After the incident, I endeavored to analyze the events that led up to it, concluding that I'd made four mistakes. The first was reporting a leaky water heater to building maintenance, the second forgetting the day and time, they said they would come, and my third calling in to work and reporting sick just so I could take a day off.
I lay in bed until nine, playing with myself and generally feeling horny. Having masturbated to an unsatisfying climax the night before I made my fourth and last mistake.
The bustle of life on the college campus always peaked just after finals. Students who had spent their last couple of weeks locked away in their dorm rooms or the library and stuffing all the knowledge of a semester into their heads at once finally emerged to face the sunlight and celebrate another successful term.