anthology

Tom Farrell had always wished Hell on his boss. On New Years Eve... Hell sent someone.-Along For The Ride-

I felt old. Again. It had been happening a lot lately. I did not live the life of an old lady, but I could hear it beckoning to me, like a mermaid on a rock."_ Michelle Tea, "Paris: A

I__e never been a believer in fate. I like to think I__ in control, that my life hasn__ been plotted out ahead of time. Sometimes all it takes is one wild thought, one brave decision to change everything. This must be one of those times.

Shall I pour for you madam?_ he asks. It is an appropriate question and yet he makes it sound like a scorching proposal__mmm, please,_ is all I manage in reply.I watch him filling the crystal flutes one at a time. He is meticulous and seems to deliberately take a long time to complete the job. The room is silent _ except, it seems, for the sounds of my excited breathing. __s there anything else I can do to help you enjoy your stay?_ he probes, raising one dark eyebrow ever so slightly...

Straddling him intimately, he slides his hands up my thighs, pushing the silk aside and caressing my pale, exposed skin. Even against his uniform, I can feel his hardness. His body feels taut and poised for action.

He stands, loosening his black tie and stripping off his white shirt, dropping the latter just in front of my face. The appetizing smell of him reaches my face in a goading wave. As he walks around my body to the bed, he slaps my ass, making me turn and yelp.

Sara?_ Blake__ voice is scorching and burns right through me.__es, sir?_ __ock the door and get over my knee. Now.

Come over here and taste me,_ he says, his voice little but a seductive whisper.

I know what I am. I know that I've chosen to identify as a transgender woman, and that I am - by and large - happy with where I am in this world. I'm far from perfect, and I could give you a list as long as my arms of the things I'd love to change. Nevertheless, I am still here, and I am still me, and no one can change that without my permission.-Gwendolyn Ann Smith, "We're All Someone's Freak

For one_ If you shoot me and your boss realizes it was without good reason, you__l have fucked up your trial period. And trust me; I know you__e still in it._ Ian pulled open a drawer in a small brown cabinet.__econdly, it could end very badly for me and I__ rather prevent that. Getting shot is not on my list of things to do today._ He wrapped his hand around the steel grip of his own weapon and removed it from the drawer.__nd last but not least, if you plan to shoot me_ Well, it__l be a matter of which of us is quicker and has better aim._ A pleasant smile crossed his features and he casually waved the gun from side to side. __o you want to risk it?

On a far-flung parcel of government land situated somewhere in the vast reaches of parched American western desert sits an abandoned and long forgotten government facility known as Lost Cactus. That is what the shadowy agency ~ that operates there to this day ~ wants everyone from presidents on down to John Q. Public to believe.

As they walked, it seemed almost every building had some similar contrivance as decoration, adorning the street in a cacophony of clangs, bangs and whirs. The street__ surroundings danced with steam and smoke, the scent of oil and grease its perfume.

From "Lady In Waiting" in the anthology The Morgue :Now I have yet to meet the corpse could hold up its end of a conversation, so at most I might whistle while fixin_ one up __tead of engagin_ myself in any small talk that__ goin_ to be so one-sided anyways. But Cindy Flowers_ corpse weren__ no ordinary body when it walked upright, and it sure weren__ ordinary just because it was lyin_ before me in a pine wood box. So for the first time I felt the need to get a few things said to one of our visitors, and I leaned down to get myself real close to her face. Her eyes was closed __ause Pa had already sewed her lids shut.

From the short story (and anthology containing it) DONNY DOESN'T LIVE HERE ANYMORE :Donny acted like he didn__ hear me. __ou can__ send your mom off into eternity looking like that, Artie. She wouldn__ like it._ He reached into my mother__ casket, shoved his fingers into her mouth like it was the most logical thing in the world.__onny, you can__ --!_____ just making her look right, Artie. It__ what she would want._ He tugged hard at my mom__ lips. I knew they were cold because I had kissed them a few moments earlier, and for a moment I felt convinced my friend had completely lost his mind. But when I looked inside Mom__ casket I knew Donny had done something only a best friend would think to do. My mother was smiling again. And she looked just the way I remembered her, the way I would always want to remember her. I got so choked up I couldn__ talk for a few minutes. __inally I managed, __y mother always told me you could make her smile.

From "Lunchtime At The Justice Cafe" :The waitress snarled a grin that lasted just long enough to show a mouthful of stained yellowed teeth, then turned suddenly serious. ___ourse I__ not the one to talk about these folks, I __pose. You see, I used to do a bit of eavesdroppin_ in my day before the sheriff put a stop to that._ __he lifted the stringy blond hair from the side of her face, the opposite side from where she had hidden her pencil. There was a small hole about the size of a quarter where her ear should have been. __s you can see, Mr. McAllister, Sheriff Sweet puts a fairly high price on mindin_ your own business in Justice,_ she added, refilling his cup. __ou want some pie?_ _