I didn’t expect it, that slip of your skin against mine as we walked, the summertime heat leaving your palm warm. Just the slightest of touches set a spark inside me, igniting my blood; it was the way your fingers encased mine leaving me simmering with desire and an anticipation I dare not express, even to myself. You were just making sure I was safe, weren’t you? Did you know that even the smallest brush of your skin against mine set my emotions in turmoil?
There’s something about every room I wander into that excites me, makes me aroused, just as if the softest of paintbrushes was running over my flesh, brushing the tips of my nipples with its tender sable. I have to slip my hand beneath my top and touch them through my bra to check, the feeling is so convincing. There they are, erect and willing me into each room, this feeling of arousal spreading, brushing my belly into knots and transferring the feeling between my legs as I realise what it is that affects me so: it is the smell of you.
This is the ninth and final short story offering in my series of literary/women’s fiction stories. I’m ending on one of my absolute favourites. This(read more…)
This is the fifth in my series of short stories of a literary/women’s fiction nature. This piece is only about 1500 words, but holds a(read more…)
Welcome to the third in my series of nine non-erotic short stories. This one is quite a short piece, written for Secret Attic about ten(read more…)
This is the second in my series of literary/women’s fiction short stories. “I won’t ever eat the fish” appeared in my head one day when(read more…)
Every part of me, from my head to my waist, turns to lead as I drop his note. From somewhere inside my gut, it feels(read more…)