Whipped

His dark eyes twinkled at her with mischief. His firm, muscular body moved with surprising grace as he advanced upon her. One corner of his mouth quirked up as he lifted his hand, and she saw the bottle of whipped cream. “Don’t spray that on me unless you plan on… Read more“Whipped”

Heat-Stroke

The Underground in July: a succession of tin cans of tightly packed Mixed Rage and Disappointment, even at this hour on a Saturday evening. In the middle carriage, one particular morsel of broiled baffled anger. Angry because he’s late, and late because he’s angry. Angry because a week ago a… Read more“Heat-Stroke”