Hi Sixers and friends, last week the watcher,Clifford Lansdale set his dune buggy on a course toward Emily’s husband, Patrick. What happens next changes the course of Emily’s life. As always, I appreciate your comments.
Just a tap to send him sprawling, one tiny tap thought as Clifford Lansdale geared up high, pedal to the floor heading straight for the target. A slam in the middle of Patrick’s back sent him flying backwards onto the hood. The lawyer slid almost face to face with the windshield, his eyes already unfocused. The dune buggy drove on coming to a stop at water’s edge. Not quite what you had in mind, Cliffie, and breathing heavily, he climbed out of the buggy to get the lawyer off. Using forgotten strength, driven by an adrenalin rush, he tugged at the bloodied body until it was thrown clear landing where waves pooled over the remains of the clever lawyer, Patrick Corwin as his body swayed gently with each ebb and flow of the sea.
Ah September with the leaves about to turn golden and crimson. Another Six Sentence Sunday finds widow Carly Evans involved with Chicago’s most eligible bachelor. After months of putting him off, she waits for him in her new home at the edge of Lake Michigan. Rain pounds against the ceiling to floor windows. Dinner grows cold; candles burn down. She calls and calls with no answer to the always prompt Martin Ambrose. Carly closes her eyes and summons her lost beloved husband.
Night descended as Lake Michigan roared against the boulders in a sudden storm. No lamp was lit yet a shimmer of light surrounded me. My eyes opened to what appeared to be a cloak of gold, purple, white and shimmering silver slipped around me, caressing my skin and this time the contact was different. Slow with purpose, each caress communicated thoughts from my beloved and listening, I understood his meaning.
Now the rhythm changed, pressed close bringing familiar heat, sensual tingles in the dark private places of my body; arms, legs, neck, shoulders, breasts, everywhere, over and over again until I burned, yes, burned with desire. And when I reached for ecstasy, the cloak wrapped tighter until I burst open, calling Bob’s name.
Welcome to SSS for another Sunday. This week widow Carly Evans, a home maker all her adult life, begins a new career as a journalist with a prominent newspaper in Fairview, Illinois. One afternoon, tired of working in noisy surroundings, she leaves the office.
Before reaching the car, someone barreled into me causing papers to fly from my stuffed briefcase and I landed in a crumpled heap.
“Sorry,” a familiar voice said, “I wasn’t looking and suddenly there you were.”
Muscular arms lifted me and brushed imaginary dirt from my breasts to my behind. Jerry Donato, the young office stud was taking the opportunity to feel me up even through my jacket!
“Jerry keep your hands to yourself and let me remind you this isn’t high school; sexual harassment is a punishable offense.“
I left him standing with his jaw dropped, Neanderthal style.
Welcome back Sixers, friends, and readers Another good day to be alive. I’ll continue with newly widowed Carly Evans as she tries out life single after many years of being double. Not easy in a changed world where the rules of dating are different from what she recalled. After trying a quilting Bee and a bereavement group, Carly goes to Parents Without Partners and meets Bill. A few months of dinners and dancing and Bill invites Carly to meet his sister’s family upstate. She agrees but only if they stay at a hotel and not with the sister.
How sweet, how ecstatic the moment as the jar of creme Bill opened liquefied on my willing center. I squirmed and cried out and couldn’t get enough as Bill caressed the tender folds, the small bud, and dipped inside. I’d love him forever, would kill for him, be a slave, do anything he wanted if he’d keep doing this magical thing and then a pause. “Don’t stop,” crazy me cried, “ don’t ever stop,” and the sound of foil ripping followed by Bill entering the silkiness of me. We rode the crest together as high as the highest surf before breaking on the shore.
The next morning alone in the bathroom, I caught the familiar scent of my beloved departed Bob’s Old Spice.