There was a bottle of ketchup and a half a loaf of bread. Groaning to herself, she opened the adjacent cuboard to find a bag of Mother’s Cookies. It...felt about three quarters full. ‘Shit, I’ll take it,’ she said to herself. Michelle walked back to the front door. She pulled the pack out of her pocket and opened it, pulling one out. She stuck it in her mouth as she walked out the door. She lit it up and looked up to yet another unsettling sight that made the cigarette drop from her lips. A pool. I thought that was a wonderful idea for an erotic story. Unfortunately, like a lot of myths about Victorian sex and sexuality, it turned out not to be true, LOL, but I figured I would not let the ‘truth’ get in the way of a good tale. This was far too good a way of writing about repressed female sexuality to let go. The photos: I took one photo of a picture I cut out from a magazine article about a carousel. The other I took of a Valentine’s card I was given by a friend. He found it in an. More

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