“Get out . . . now!” Bill rips off a loud roar, from deep inside his extra large stomach, like a lion growling at his prey. He slams the door behind them with so much force several pictures fall off the wall.
“Heh, heh,” Duke quietly laughs as he looks back toward the door. “I know you’re hiding that murderer, Bill. I will catch her and make you both pay!”
They had collected Lucy from school and had listened indulgently to her nonsensical conversation for most of the journey back to the farm. Harry adored his sister and enjoyed being with her, but recently he had noticed that the happy tones that had once been her natural way of speaking had now changed to a more subdued and stilted speech. He was not sure why this had happened and wanted to believe that it was because she was starting to grow up, but in his heart he dreaded that the real reason was down to the home she was being brought up in. However, she was still able to brighten his day no matter how low he may be feeling. Her unconditional love for her brothers, and her dog, Blacky, who she would spend endless hours with, running around the yard and throwing sticks for him to catch and fetch, filled his heart each time he was in her company.
Robert had the top of the time clock off and was fiddling with the tiny digital clock inside. “Done,” he said proudly. He placed the top back on and the clock hands automatically adjusted to the new time of five-oh-five. Robert scooped every timecard from its slot holder and punched everyone out.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Naomi stated with a smile.
Finished, Robert took the top off the time clock and reset it back to the correct time. “I don’t want my salary to get docked, do you?”
“Hell no. I didn’t even know the clock was adjustable. Promise to show me how to do that later, okay?”
“Oh gosh,” he said in a fake shy child-like voice. “I don’t know if I should, Miss Parks.”
“I’ll spank you if you don’t,” she answered, drawing her hand over the computer shut down button and hitting the clicker. The system beeped. She stood up and approached Robert with a cunning look in her eyes. “In fact, I think I’ll spank you anyway.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Robert said with a smile and took her in his arms. Lips pushed against one another, his tongue forced into her mouth and was greeted with eagerness. His hands slid down her waist and squeezed her buttocks. Naomi moaned.
Someone knocked loudly on the door.
Instantly they broke the embrace.
“Yeah,” Robert called out, frustrated. He watched Naomi fetch her handbag off the floor next to her desk.
Jeff opened the door.
“What is it?”
“Sorry.” He glanced over at Naomi then his eyes drifted back to Robert.
“Just letting you know that most the lads are gone.”
Fuck, that was fast. “Fine,” he said.
He continued to sweep the house, making sure no one was concealed anywhere, checking that windows were securely latched. He felt exposed at every pane of glass as he closed the draperies.
In the bedroom, on the bed, he had left the pistol with which he had killed. During his absence, someone had taken it. The shoulder holster and the spare magazine were also gone.
A small smear of blood brightened the beige chenille bedspread.
Either way I find it annoying and offensive. I just have to try to understand that some people don’t have the manners that I was raised with. I had to get that out of my system. I’ll drop it now.
On another note I noticed I’m having the jitters, especially in my hands. I was on a high dose of steroids and am now still weaning off them. I am on my last pill today. When I’m in work people notice it. They say to me “Why are your hands shaking so much?” or “You still have the shakes?” Now like I said most of them know I have MS so they assume I’m getting worse. My response is annoyingly repetitive. I’m still weaning off the steroids and it is a side effect but then you always get this look of pity or astonishment. I don’t get mad or stress out about it too much. I just find the lack of manners in this world disturbing and sad. I was raised not to point fingers at people who are disabled, not to make fun of people, and to be polite.
James heard his mother crying down the hall, in the kitchen. There was nothing worse than hearing her cry. For so many years he had tried to protect her from him, allowing himself to be his punching bag, but it didn’t always work. His father never hit her, thankfully, but sometimes words hurt more than physical blows. And the man knew how to make his verbal assaults cut like a knife, right in her most vulnerable places.
His voice was coarse as he moaned, his body sleek and posted above me. His lips found mine again and he kissed me deeply, full of need. I opened my legs, letting him enter me, setting me on ﬁre. I could feel his pressure build fast as I clung onto him and allowed our bodies to glide together in a perfect rhythm. I held him still, deep inside; and watched with bliss as his eyes rolled with pleasure and his back arched pushing deeper inside of me. My nails dug into his back as he pushed in more, never pulling back. Biting into his shoulder, I stiﬂed my screams as I opened further for him allowing him to ﬁll me completely.
My hands clutched at his back while my breathing stalled. Our bodies were slick with sweat as we submitted to our pleasures, both releasing. An intense quiver held our bodies, letting us shudder together. Tenderly draping his body over mine, he kissed me softly, his desires fulﬁlled but the need for me still apparent in his eyes. “I love you, Ember.” The words came so naturally as if his soul were speaking……
Tall and lean, the priest wore sagging robes of white that blurred in the light of the moons. His high, stiff black collar displayed a silver brooch that boasted the symbol of his deity. His face shimmered, and the wind brought the stench of stale sweat from his body. On that current of air came a warm drift, as if the man’s body heated the passing air a degree or two. Sai shifted uncomfortably in the green eyes that shined with a hungry light.
The priest’s hair, ran through with white, had once been black. It was close cropped, and gleamed as if wet. In his arms, he carried a tome, old and bound in black leather, fastened closed with a buckle, its withered pages gray and crumbling. Sai tried to remember if he had ever seen pages of a book gray before, but he could not recall.
Sai noticed a slick, slimy splotch near the priest’s cuff before he pulled his sleeve down and spoke again.
“You are here for what reason, swordsman? Why have you interrupted these sacred proceedings?”
The man’s voice held power, a summoning urge that drew…..
“Aren’t dogs just the greatest to have around?” Chance asked Luna again for the third time that hour.
She gritted her teeth and flexed her fist as she tried to ignore him.
It seemed like the eerie calm she had felt around him the night before was gone. Chance didn’t act strange again, like last night had never happened.
“I hate dogs,” Luna replied, whipping around to look at him. “You know I’m scared of them. I don’t want one around me.”
“But aren’t you pro-life for everything?”
“Everything but you,” Luna snapped.
Chance looked back at her like he didn’t believe she could still manage to be mad at him after last night. “You’re such a lady.”
Luna snorted as her anger flooded back. “Yeah, I should hope so.”
“Dogs are great hunters, did you know that? Did I tell you my dog helped me hunt?”
“Yes,” she replied, her jaw clenched. “You’ve told me that over and over again.” She was surprised he hadn’t bragged about the bird he killed as well.
“Just thought you should know,” Chance said. “It’s so interesting.”
“To you it is.” Luna rolled her eyes and looked away from the annoying kid. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a slight smirk appear on his face.