Her Lover

Her name was Cecilia. She had a constant smirk on her face and Vivian loved that about her. She loved that Cecilia didn’t care about what other people thought about her. Cecilia was from South Africa and she had the most gorgeous olive skin with deep brown eyes.

“Your eyes are the definition of brown,” Vivian once told Cecilia, “it’s as if there is no other color in your eyes except for pure brown. Not like the mix of colors people have in their eyes here in the U.S.” Vivian kissed her softly and felt the rush of excitement all over her body once again.
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Her Imposition

Her name was Vivian Cunningham. The name was enough to scare the shit out of half the partners at the firm, but it wasn’t her name that got her to where she was, it was her hard work that made her a woman to be respected. Not only was she the only female partner but she was also one of the youngest, yet she worked harder than any of the law fellows there. It wasn’t long before they came knocking at her door with an offer she couldn’t refuse. And now that she had her title she realized that she would do anything to keep it. Which is why nobody could ever know that she had a forbidden lover.
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Her Temptation

She knew it was wrong, but she couldn’t stop herself from doing it. The thought of having to stop pushed her to do it more. The absolute ecstasy she felt was a feeling she got from nothing else.

Every moment of the process brought a different type of excitement, and it was a process she knew well. It would start with the daydream of doing it, the anxiety to do it again, and eventually the decision to follow through. The decision excited her heart. Her pupils got big, her heart began to race, the corners of her lips slowly turned upward. She knew she was going to do it soon.
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The God Complex

My son sent me another email.  I wonder what it is.  Maybe he is finally going to come see me and bring my granddaughter to visit her only grandmother.  Well I guess she has another grandmother but I live closer, plus I am in a nursing home and we get very lonely here.  Janice is always bringing her kids around and showing off her grandkids.  They don’t really love her though, I can tell.  That reminds me, I need to tell Janice about how my granddaughter is reading at a 3rd grade level now.  She is so intelligent! Continue reading The God Complex

The Morning Rush

Breath is once again visible to the naked eye.  Our cheeks are flush and our noses burn, but we stubborn Chicagoans wouldn’t dare bring out a scarf and hat this early in the year.  Instead we wrap our exposed fingers tightly around our store bought coffees, willing the warmth to travel into our fingers and through our veins.  We stand on the platform in an orderly fashion, contemplating the pigeon walking along the railroad tracks.  He takes the same amount of steps in between each wooden plank but he does not walk in a straight line.  Suddenly he hops over the steel rail and off the railroad.  The familiar sound of the train invades our ears and we are all silently amazed at how that clever little creature knew a train was coming before the bell sounded.  We watch the hypnotizing three headlights of the train become clearer and we all shift to where we think the train might stop.  We are wrong, the train stops a few feet ahead of where we all crowded.  Eagerly we get on the train, fighting for that perfect seat.  Now all we can do is wait.  Wait for the conductor to take us to the place we so desperately don’t want to go: work.