Just one Line.

From my new novella, The Heat of the Moment, under my new pen name, Carmilla Deane, an excerpt from near the end of the book. It's a mainstream, historical 1960s lesbian romance & mystery thriller.

“People, men and women, are the same; we live and die. The in-between is what counts. There’s loneliness, togetherness, happiness, sadness, good times, bad times; the balance is what matters. When I’m with you, Hilde, there’s always more of what I need than what I don’t.”
 
There's an author here named Tammy Trueheart-well not here any more, hasn't posted in years, but in one of her stories she had a line that caught me totally off guard and had me laughing in the middle of reading a gang bang scene.

"I was taking more balls off my chin than Mike Piazza." :D
I am back. I am reposting stories that I deleterd and I am working on a new series.
There's an author here named Tammy Trueheart-well not here any more, hasn't posted in years, but in one of her stories she had a line that caught me totally off guard and had me laughing in the middle of reading a gang bang scene.

"I was taking more balls off my chin than Mike Piazza." :D
I am back
 
Only Mariah had seen me transform as yet, and I think some of our parents were still hoping that it was all a prank, or that the sober presence of people in their forties would somehow force such foolishness to finally stop.
 
I went through their Omni-tools again. There wasn't much in them except accounts to Extranet services I don't need, but I emptied their wallets out of their credits; enough for buying milk, a large bag of potato chips, and the latest copy of the Literotica Weekly Stories, and I'd still have some change!

Currently editing my Borrowed Plumes incoming entry, but I figured my take on the Mass Effect universe has pulp magazines for sale, so I couldn't resist.
 
“You!” Abigail’s finger moved to the left to point at Chi who immediately dropped to his knees, his hands up in surrender. “Will never sell another woman or I will cut out your eyes and nose, replace them with your genitals and sell you to a traveling freak show!" She emitted an evil chuckle. "The cock-eyed man."
 
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That pout was brutal, and at the gate I sighed. “Fine,” I had snapped at the little brat. “We can have one cookie, then we have to go!” Her delighted squeals had made me crinkle my nose. That child would be the death of me.

I tried to push up from the table, but my hands merely slipped in the blood. My fingernails were deeply broken from my attempts to get away.
 
The above is a snippet from a piece that will be going in the anthology I'm putting together.

This is a snippet from what will become my Halloween story this year:

Daddy had once told me to never go with strangers. I should've listened better. Minded more. I should’ve appreciated what I was given. I should’ve never stopped smiling as he'd commanded.

I deserve this. My hands grip the posts on either side of me as the carousel spins slowly, it's melodic tone punctuated with my cry after the whip strikes my back again.

I want this. The floaty feeling that comes with each line of broken skin makes me smile as I look up at my balloon. Its string begins to tangle around the post on the carousel, tying my wrist to it.

I need this. Forever.
 
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