“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…
A story conceived by Goddess Marquesa
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.
The road stretched out ahead as the shoes began their repetitive striking of the pavement. The air crisp and cooly filling his nostrils and lungs. Perfect weather to stretch the legs and push a bit harder today. As the sun sank down, down off the edge of the horizon leaving the dusk to keep the road lit, thoughts turned to the day before. Her brown eyes glanced up at him. She had been pulling a friday night piece of pizza from the box. Her expression mostly unchanging as she said, “no, you’re right.” It was one of those moments. A moment that was inevitable. There was a small voice inside him that said, “I know she’s gonna say Yes, when you’re not around I miss you and it’s totally different. “But she didn’t. She said what his heart thought she would say. The running shoes dug harder into the asphalt.
It started with a wrong number.
