“Goddess be praised, he’s alive,” a strange man’s voice declared as strong hands fished Edward out of the churning surf.
Edward hung limp as his body was dragged up the beach. The feeling of being on solid ground was strange. He had been airborne, shaken by a storm like a maraca in the fist of a mad dancer. After his plane ditched in the ocean and he swam free of the cabin, he had bobbed for hours like a cork tossed by crashing waves. A world that was suddenly not in constant motion in all three dimensions was now as jarring as it was pleasant. Read more…
I first saw her shortly after I was elected Mayor of this Florida West Coach beach town. She was stunning in a bright pink sun dress that hugged her curves and showed her magnificent breasts and shapely legs to devastating effect. The desire began with that first glance, but I had no idea how intense it would become. It was a sunny day and she was wearing sunglasses, so I would only be hit by her piercing green eyes later, when we had dinner in the evening. Those witchy eyes on top of her exquisite face, luscious form, and gorgeous blond tresses were almost too much to bear.
Clark was livid. Not that this was an unusual state for him to be in. Not at all. That was, ironically enough, really at the root of the current problem. Of course, with Clark, there was ALWAYS a problem, or a crisis or a situation, or SOMETHING that he (and ONLY he) could repair and set to right. This was because Clark was one of those self appointed “General Manager of the Universe” types who felt that no one else was really capable or competent enough to get the job done, and done right; whatever that job was. He was a stereotypical hard-charger who would never admit to meeting his match – even if he had! He was about to have his male ego’s perfect track record disrupted, however, and here is where our story begins. Here is where Clark’s reign as “Lord and Master of All He Surveys” would end, and he wouldn’t even know it. 
