• Short Fiction,  Wicked Wednesday

    The Switch

    “Darling, will you lace me up?” She lifted the pale gold waves of hair at the nape of her neck and shivered as his fingers wound around the velvet ribbon crisscrossing up her back. She adjusted the front of the corset, breasts almost toppling out, and exhaled slowly as she felt the definition of the garment shape her torso under his diligent tugs. She could hear the focus in his breathing. “Are you nervous?” “About the show? A little.” His voice trembled slightly, betraying his anxiety. “You’ll be great, you look amazing. So dapper!” She smiled at him over her shoulder and caught his eye.

  • Short Fiction

    An Evening Out

    “Are you ready?” He calls out, “If we have to go we should at least be on time.” He jingles his keys in his pocket, irritated by how long she’s taking. He checks himself out in the hall mirror. Unbuttons a second button, decides against it, buttons it back up. He checks his watch, rolls his eyes, takes her coat from the closet. “Traffic is going to be murder …” his sentence slows to a stop as she skips down the stairs, barefoot, heels tucked under her arm, adjusting an earring. She drops the shoes and shuffles into them. “You look amazing.” Traffic is suddenly the last thing on his…

  • femmedom,  kissing,  Short Fiction,  Wicked Wednesday

    Coffee, extra cream

    Emerging from the subway to the rainy street, she popped her umbrella open and proceeded across the street and down the block. The dull grey of the day made the warm amber glow of the coffee shop all the more inviting and seeing him sitting near the back on a worn velvet sofa, reading the newspaper, made her heart speed up in her chest. He was such a pretty fellow, so gracious and unassuming.

  • femmedom,  Kink of the Week,  Short Fiction

    Varnish

    His phone vibrated on the desk beside his laptop and he touched the screen to open her text. She often messaged him in the afternoons, leaving his mornings to him to be productive without her distracting words and images.  Those snippets of her fed the hunger in him, both a blessing and a curse, as they both worked from home. The message was just an image: a pristine white counter with a single bottle of red nail polish. His heart raced. She must have known what this picture would do to him, and if so, her hunch was correct.

  • Short Fiction

    Moving Day

    “Well, that’s the last of it. We’re all moved in.” His grin was contagious and she found herself smiling into his chest as they hugged. They stood in that embrace, surrounded by boxes filled with all their worldly possessions, overtired and happy, a bit delirious with the stress of the day and the newness of their surroundings. The hug became a kiss, then more kisses, lips suddenly feverish with intent and fingertips fumbling with buttons and belt buckles.

  • Short Fiction

    Bad Dream

    I gently reach over your hip to hold your twitching cock in my hand, soothing sounds dripping from my lips into your ear, easing you out of the dream that has you lurching and whimpering, and into consciousness.

  • Short Fiction

    Herringbone

    I roll over in the hazy morning light, heavy drapes holding back the grim drizzle of the rain outside. Your form beside me is slack with sleep, six feet of gentle submission, chin tucked to your chest.

  • Short Fiction

    First Meeting

    She adjusted the lacy top of her stockings making neat lines of the garters, fidgeting with the elastic, bending to straighten the seam at her toes. He had called from the cab, he was minutes away. He’d check in, carry his own bags, too modest to follow a cheery bellhop, and he’d knock, despite having the key – of this, she was certain because she had told him to do so.