Burton Clay pressed the flashing button on his office intercom. “Yes, Molly?” he asked in the clipped tones of a busy man.
“There is a depositor requesting to see you,” the voice of his secretary reported.
Burton looked at his watch. It was two-thirty. Even with shortened summer hours on a Friday afternoon, the bank would not close for another hour and a half. “All right,” he said into the intercom with weary resignation, “send him in.” Read more…
The doorbell rang. Goddess Marquesa sighed. Since injuring her foot, she had been largely housebound, and even common chores like answering the door posed a challenge. Whoever it was had better be on important business. With painful effort, she rose.
Standing on the front step the Goddess found an attractive brunette. The visitor was tall, late 30’s or early 40’s, wearing a prim pastel lavender skirt suit. Clasped tightly to her breast, bound in black leather with gilt lettering across the cover, was the Holy Bible, held so that the title would be visible to whoever answered the door. Read more…
The trees streamed past, mile after interstate mile. Alan Ross had stopped paying attention. He just stared out the window of the bus. It was far from luxurious and it was slow, but it had the advantage of being cheap and that was what mattered. He had spent the last dollar in his pocket on a package of stale vending machine crackers at the last stop. Now his stomach was growling again. It didn’t matter of course. He was almost there. Read more…
“Can you help me?”
It was a question Marquesa was very accustomed to. As an attorney, she handled only a single field: divorce. She had elected to narrow her practice further still, taking only female clients. Even then, she only agreed to represent a small fraction of those who came to her desperately seeking her assistance. It wasn’t the woman’s particular reasons for divorce that concerned her especially. It was neither here nor there whether her husband was an inconsiderate oaf or a serial philanderer. She was unconcerned about who was in the right and who was not. Ultimately, only one thing really mattered… Was he rich? Read more…
Swami Kamiprajna settled himself onto his devotional cushion, anticipating the arrival of his new disciple. She had been coming to hear his teachings for several weeks now, and she showed all the signs that she was ready. She followed his every word with rapt attention, and looked at him with wide, glistening eyes through the chanting service when his lecture was concluded.
Last week, at the conclusion of his talk about “watering the flower of wisdom within,” she had worked up the courage to pose a question. “Is it possible,” she had asked breathlessly, seemingly overcome by awe, “for me…I mean for someone…to overcome sensual desire?” That was when he knew that he could summon her for a private “interview”. Read more…
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