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Her desk was just outside his office door, which he frequently left open, and if he were working at his side table on a project she'd get an unobstructed view of him beneath it. Usually she'd be trying to get her work done, but would invariably end up thinking about crawling up underneath and taking down his pants for a delicious mouthful of his cock. If he'd given even a hint of an invitation she'd be all over him with her warm soft mouth ready to take everything he could slip down her throat. Instead, she'd just sit quietly at her desk, slowly squeezing her thighs together chasing after tiny orgasms all afternoon.

Today was no different, except that it was late August and her other two office mates were away on vacation, which left just the two of them in the office suite. She'd worn her lightest professional skirt today, and regretted having to wear pantyhose since it was so hot out. Mr. M requested those working under him maintain a proper business atmosphere around the office, which meant no summer dresses without anything else underneath, something she'd wished to try in hopes of giving him a flash of thigh, just to see what would happen. She never tried anything that bold for fear he'd let her go, and the job was something she definitely wanted to keep.

He'd left the office at 11:30 for what he said would be a 3 hour meeting with a new client, and she was going to make the best of her undistracted time by working through lunch. She'd gone down the hall for a soda and was back at her desk trying to get things done, but her thoughts kept wandering back to her boss, and her hands weren't far behind. Soon her fingers were tracing up her thigh beneath her skirt, and she was gently massaging herself through her pantyhose as she sat at her desk. Knowing that she was alone in the office, she pushed her chair back a bit and lifted her leg up to the desk, making it easier for her to slip her fingers into her hose and onto her quickly dampening lips. Now she was breathing more heavily while her fingers moved little circles around her clit, bringing her more and more pleasure with each little twirl. Without bothering to contain herself, she let out several little gasps as she quickly came on her fingers, letting her head roll back as she let herself go with the contractions in her pussy. It wasn't until she opened her eyes again that see realized Mr. M had already returned earlier than expected and had been in his office for the entire performance.

She immediately sat up in her chair and tried to compose herself, pulling her skirt back down trying to think of something of say, but he was now standing behind his side table looking straight at her with a sort of surprised look on his face. When her eyes met his he slowly raised his hand and motioned with his finger for her to come into his office. He didn't seem exactly angry, but there was something uncertain about his look as she began to rise from her chair.

"Mr. M, I didn?t see you come back in. I, .. I was just taking my lunch, and?"

"There's no reason for excuses, Miss D. I don't think there's any explaining you can do. But you'd better come in here so we can talk about it."

She felt pretty embarrassed about being caught diddling herself by the very man she'd be thinking about, but in the back of her mind she realized this was just the sort of thing she'd hoped might happen.

He, on the other hand, didn't quite know what to make of it. He'd have been lying if he said he hadn't noticed the attentions she'd been giving him. And being single for several months now thoughts of her had flashed through his mind from time to time. But she just seemed so young, and obviously it would be terribly disruptive to have something like that taking place in the office. But at the very least he felt compelled to talk to her about it, just to see what came of it. He motioned for her to sit on the sofa he kept across from his desk, and she slung herself down with a curious mixture of dejection and mischief.

"I'm sure you realize, Miss V, that this sort of thing not only isn't appropriate for the work place, but that I could also dismiss you for it. Do you have anything to say about it?"

She figured she might as well try to make the most of it by seeing how far she could go now that she was out in the open. She let her knees drift open just enough for him to think about looking up her skirt, and began to move them slowly closer, then farther apart like a nervous little girl.

"Oh, Mr. M, I'm sorry to be such a problem for you. But sometimes I get a little overcome by my mood, and I really thought your were out, so I sort of let myself have a little fun. I hope you don't think I'm some dirty young lady without any kind of control."
She now had her hand on her knees, moving her dress up her legs a bit and she looked him right in the eyes. He felt himself becoming aroused by the sight of her thighs peeking out from beneath her skirt. And his breath became just a touch more shallow when she sat up nice and tall, bringing her hands a few more inches closer to her, saying, "the truth is, Mr. M, I was thinking about you as I did it."

He could see now that he was in for something either incredibly fun or incredibly dangerous, or both, but he seized upon it immediately and asked her to come across the room to where he was seated behind his desk.

"Come over her for a moment, Miss V, and I'll tell you what we'll do." She came over and stood facing him beside his chair as he looked her all over. He placed his hands on her slim young waist and turned her around so her back was to her. "What I want you to do, Miss V, is to bend forward for me and show me what exactly it was you were doing just now," and her put his hand on the small of her back to push her forward.

She was absolutely excited by the way he had taken over the situation, and she willingly bent over and reached her hand down the front of her pantyhose again. As she did this he lifted her skirt up over her sweet hips, giving him wonderful full view of her nice round ass pressed neatly into her pantyhose.

"Mr. M," she cooed, "I would just love to show you everything I'm up to when you're not looking. Is that what you want to do, play with my little pussy while you watch? No fair touching yourself, now. Not until I say so."

Even being as aroused as he was, he wasn't about to let this little girl tell him what to do, and he gave her a quick slap on her butt to let her know where she stood. "If you're going to be a bad girl about it, I'm going to have to keep you in line." With both hands he squeezed her cheeks so that his fingers began to dig in just enough to start hurting, then her began pulling them apart and pushing them back together while she continued to play with herself for him.

It was an incredible turn on how rough he was being with her, and she slowly started moving her hips back and forth while he manhandled her ass. "Ooo, please Mr. M, I'm such a bad girl, please don't hurt me too much. Tell me how I can be a good girl again for you."

She was slipping her fingers deep into her wet pussy for him, rubbing her little spot each time with her palm. She felt his face press up against her hose, and his hot breath as he started to lick her though the fabric made her shudder. The pressure of his tongue moving up and down, pressing her fingers farther in, made her want to come right there. He began to pull the hose down as she arched her back and lifted her eager butt up to meet his unobstructed tongue. Her knees almost buckled as he pushed in as far up her slit as he could, pressing his face deep into her as he pulled her cheeks apart, breathing heavily and inhaling deeply the wonderful aroma of this young girl. She kept rolling her clit between her fingers as he licked up and down the full length of her. He would pause each time at the top to lightly tickle her anus, which he could feel slowly relaxing and ready to take more of him.

"Bad girls have to get what they deserve, Miss V, and I'm not about to let you off easy. This little pussy of yours needs a good sucking before we can make you a good girl again. Do you want your pussy sucked like a dirty girl, Miss V?"

"Oh, yes please, Mr. M, please give me what I need. Put your tongue back in me, please?" He leaned her over his desk and brought the pantyhose down to her knees, forcing her to keep them together more than she would have liked. "Now reach back and hold your cheeks apart for me, dirty girl, and let me suck you off." She was moaning continuously now as she reached back with both hands to do as he said, with her face pressed against the desk. He sucked her lips into his mouth, flicking his tongue over her clitoris again and again. He would stop to drive deep into her now and then to taste her sweet, tangy wetness within, or run up and poke her ass to feel her puckering little hole try to accommodate as much tongue as he could give her. As he did this he pressed one, then two, then three fingers into her completely soaking pussy, and he could feel her begin to squeeze as she started to orgasm.

She let out a squeaky little series of shouts as she came on his hand, pressing her clenching hole up to meet him as she hung onto the desk. He continued to lick her after removing his fingers, using his wet hand to keep her now slippery cheeks parted. "Bad girls have to keep coming when they're told to, Miss V, and I'm not about to let you go without making you cum some more," and he again sucked her whole pussy into his mouth, pressing his tongue onto her over-stimulated clitoris. This immediately made her shout and buck again with another, larger orgasm. She wanted to beg him to stop because it was almost too intense, but she couldn't get anything our other than "plea?, please,? oh my god, plea?, ooohhh?" She came in what felt like several small orgasms tied into one long big one, and she didn't want him to ever stop treating her this way.

But once he felt he'd given her enough, he stood up from his chair and began to take off his pants. She could hear what he was doing, but she couldn't lift her head from having cum so much, and she continued to lay there face down on his desk, breathing heavily with her skirt bunched up around her waist, her pantyhose at her ankles, and her shiny wet butt waiting for more of what this man wanted to give.

"There, Miss V, I think that takes care of your bad side. Now how would you like to be a good girl again, hm? Would you like to be a good girl and make me happy now? I'll even give you a nice warm sticky present that I have waiting for you here." As he was talking to her, he was teasing her with his stiff dick, slowly stroking it in his hands while he ran the tip up and down her wet lips. All she could really do was smile and wait to be filled up with the full length of his firm cock, and she cooed as she moved her hips playfully side to side as he toyed with her. "Mmmm, yes please, Mr. M, I wanna be your good girl now. Miss V wants to make you very happy for making the bad girl pay for her dirty thoughts. Take whatever you want, please."

He slowly brought the tip of his penis to her slippery opening, and eased it into her its full length. They both gasped at how good it felt; he being fully encased by this gorgeous young girl, and she being filled all the way up by this wonderfully long, hard cock she'd dreamt about all this time. He placed his hands on her waist and began to slowly pull her towards him each time he pressed in. She could feel him pressing all the way up as deep as her pussy would go, and it was enormously satisfying to lay there for him as he gently fucked. She could only moan and smile as he continued to move at a nice, even pace.

"What a good girl, you are, Miss V, and how sweet you look all bunched up in your good girl clothes. Why don't we help you out of those, hm? Do you think you could take them off for me if I let you stand up a bit? Promise you won't let me slip out now." He lifted her up a bit and reached around to unbutton her blouse as she leaned on her arms to keep herself up, her hips rocking back and forth as he continued pushing her into the desk. She lifted each hand to slip out of her sleeves, then reached up and undid the front clasp of her bra, which he then helped her out of as well. "Mmm, there now, doesn't that feel better?"

She kept herself propped up, her skirt still loose around her waist, as he reached around her with both hands and began to squeeze and fondle her firm breasts, teasing each nipple and feeling her react to everything he did. Even at this slow pace he could feel she was getting closer to coming again now that her nipples were getting some serious attention, and he started pressing in harder to get her even more excited.

"Oh, Mr.M. God I just want to be your good girl for you. Oooh, please, let me be good for you. Ahhh?." And her voice trailed off to a squeak again as she tried to press down on him faster while the orgasm shot through her. He didn't speed up, but just rammed himself in harder and harder as she bounced up and down on him, throwing her head back an forth. Her efforts to get him in deeper by lifting up higher made him slip out, and his slick cock slipped up between her tight cheeks, which in its own way felt incredibly nice against the underside of his penis. He reached back and held her hips to him now, so that she couldn't squirm away He liked the feel of her slippery soft ass, and wanted to see how far she'd go for him.

"How was that little orgasm, good girl? Did that feel nice to squeeze me deep inside like that?" As he spoke to her he held himself in his hand and began to run the tip up and down between her wet cheeks, gently poking her anus just a little. "How good do you want to be for me today, hm? Do you want to try something new? "

She knew he wanted in, but was unsure how it would feel, either good or bad, since she'd only toyed with it herself a little in the past. It always seemed so tight and a little stingy when she tried to push her fingers in. But she was completely turned on now, and was willing to let him do anything.

"Do you want my ass, Mr. M? 'Cause I'm ready to give it to you if you promise to go slow for your good girl," and she arched her back some more and lifted up to him. As he placed the tip on her anus and pressed in, she could feel the slight burning as he eased her open. She tried to relax, but she still bit her lip and gave a little gasp from the pain. She had her hand on his thigh trying to keep him going in as much as she wanted, and he slowed when her hand clenched his leg.

He had just the tip of it in her, and he held still while she tried to relax for him. It felt amazing to have her tight hole squeezing the sensitive spot just under the head, and he had to resist every urge to slip himself deep into her beautiful round butt. "Ooo, sweet girl. Don't let me hurt you. God, that feels good. I want you to relax and try to enjoy it too." And he slowly started moving his hips, just letting himself slip in a little more each time. She was still holding onto him tightly, and while it felt good to be filled this way, it was still a very intense mix of pleasure and pain. It slowly got better, and she heard herself letting out a long slow moan.

"Ooooh, ahhh, Ju.., just a little slower please. I like it but it hurts a little still. Just fuck my ass slowly for a bit." She could feel her whole abdomen begin to warm to the pressure, and her anus was beginning to tingle more pleasantly. She let her grip on him loosen and she started to meet his thrusts with her own. He was slipping his cock all the way in and almost all the way out now, and she could feel another, but different orgasm building. "Ooo, girl, that is sooo nice. Such a beautifully willing body you have, and so nice of you to let me play with it how I want."

"Mm, I wanna be your good girl, Mr. M. Make me your good girl and cum for me. Cum in my sweet little ass if you want to. I want you to cum now, please. Pretty please." Her sweet voice begging for him to cum as he slowly fucked he ass was more than he could take, and he felt his load beginning to build up in his balls as they gently slapped against her pussy. When she reached down both to play with his balls and finger herself so she could cum with him, the excitement was too much.

Oooh, my. Do you want your present now, good girl? Hm? I'm ready to give it you all hot and slippery in your tiny hole. Ahhhh?" He grabbed a hold of her hips and forced himself hard and deep into her.

"Oh, God, yes please. Yes, please! Give it to me now. Fill my ass with your sweet cum?" And she started to cum with him, fingering her clit and feeling her ass squeezing him as his hot semen shot into her. They were both shouting out loud as they came together for what seemed like several minutes. He slowly came to rest, easing his relaxing dick gently out of her cute butt, and he let himself drop down on top of her on the desk.

"Oh, now that's a good girl, Miss V, " and she smiled at how good she made him feel, and how nice she felt having him lie on her.

"Your good girl wants to make you happy, but you know I'll have to be a bad girl from time to time. You'll just have to lick it out of me when that happens from now on."

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Unfortunate for me, my first wife was a bit monogamously challenged. I knew she was a DTF girl before we married, in fact, that was some of the attraction, but after finding evidence of infidelity a few times, I drew a line in the sand that unfortunately she crossed. The thing with her, is that alcohol always lowered her inhibitions quickly and made her extremely horny. She told me stories about being drunk and fucking multiple guys after a party, multiple one night stands, sucking off two...

2 years ago
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Workmates aged 14 and 16 end up working on each other alone in a tent HOT

If you’ve read another of my true stores, you will already know a tad about me. If not, Hi! My name’s Josh, I’m an actor and I live in the south of England. You will probably also know that I like to detail my stories very much, so it may seem very long but if you want the full benefit of it I do suggest you read all of it (if you can last!) This one is about Jordan and me; we were (and still are!) close workmates that became very close one particular night! This was actually my most...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People IV The Big Fat Middle of Nothing

IV. The big fat middle of nothing. Outside the bus window the night was something solid and impenetrable, not a star to be seen, only an occasional porch light burning on some farmhouse miles in the distance. For hours now they'd been passing through endless blind tracts of dark country, where shockingly few people lived, but Phoebe could still feel the cows out there in the night, watching, chewing, uncomprehending. Cows, cows, and more cows, that was her impression of the great...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People V The Diner on Memory Lane

V. The diner on memory lane. The last time Marcia had spoken to anyone in her family it was to her brother Matt. That would be winter five years ago. They met in a 24-hour diner by the side of a highway in Metuchen, New Jersey. Pointedly, it was a restaurant Matt had never visited and no doubt never intended to visit again. Through a series of emails and two brief phone calls, she had explained the general situation and Matt's reaction had grudgingly advanced from "this has got to be...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People VI The perfect pie crust

VI. The perfect pie crust. The windows were dark, covered with condensation. Inside, at the kitchen table, Marcia pressed the heel of her hand against the back of the santoku knife and cleaved the apple in half. Fuji, this time. There were five other apples prepared on the cutting board, skinned an unearthly greenish-white, already tarnishing. She was making an apple pie for the Blue Cat. "I still don't understand," Grace had said. "What you've got against birthdays. What's so...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People VII A Bicycle Built for Two

VII. A bicycle built for two. Everyman's Cycles looked like a bicycle field hospital. Wherever you looked bicycles, or parts of bicycles, stood, leaned, or lay in various states of distress, awaiting Walt's attention. He'd get to each of them, eventually, in his methodical, patient way. Walt took in stray bicycles the way crazy old ladies collected cats. Most of them were rescues. Bicycles he found abandoned in fields, weeds growing through their spokes. Or locked for months to streets...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People VIII Snowballs in paradise

VIII. Snowballs in paradise. Grace was unpacking a snow-globe collection from all fifty states that Mavis Pritchard had brought into the shop the day before. "Look at this," she said, holding one up with a hula girl and a palm tree inside. "There's even one from Hawaii. "Hmph. Snow in Hawaii. Who would imagine something like that?" "Someone who'd never been to Hawaii?" Marcia suggested. Grace turned the globe over. "Made in China. Well that explains it, I guess." She gave it...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People IX The momster

IX. The momster. Her whole life Phoebe's biggest fear was that her Mom would die suddenly and without warning. Even as a little girl, she was kept awake with nightmares that seemed to foretell his horrible event in detail. She remembered anxiously watching her mom sleep, afraid that she might stop breathing, nudging her awake just in case. How cranky she would be! "What!" she'd bark, snorting and spluttering. "What's the matter with you? What time is it? Why aren't you in bed?" It...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People X The amoeba life

X. The amoeba life. In the stories of people she admired, there was always a defining moment, a dramatic event that summed up their lives to a critical point and provided the pivot for a new life to come. Marcia would like to have had a similar "defining moment" in her life, but it struck her that her life not only lacked a defining moment, but that it really didn't have any definition at all. It was a more amorphous thing, her life; if it advanced, and that was often in doubt, it...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XI A ghost and a riddle

XI. A ghost and a riddle. Night again. Bus travel made her sleepy, but only during the day it seemed. She traveled through the night hours wide awake. Phoebe could see her reflection like a ghost super-imposed over all that limitless darkness. She felt like a ghost, too, like something not quite real, a figment of someone's imagination. But who's? She was a ghost floating across the countryside to haunt a person who'd run as far away from her as possible. What brought her back...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XII Mirror mirror

XII. Mirror, Mirror. The woman framed in the glass wore a flower-print silk skirt, a white blouse, and a light black sweater cinched tight above the waist. It was the sixth outfit she'd considered that morning, not counting the dozen or so she'd tried on mentally, rejecting them one after the other with a shudder of second-guess horror before they even made it out of the closet. "What do you think about this? Too frumpy, right?" Walt was sprawled on top of the bed, head propped on...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XIII Lame Burger

XIII. Lame burger. The bus that was supposed to bring Phoebe to Hope Crossing came and went with no Phoebe on it. Only a handful of passengers disembarked from the coach. A tall, elderly, stoop-shouldered man with a sharp-featured face descended first. He took a quick glace around, readjusted his grip on a battered suitcase, and trudged up the street. He was followed by a stout, middle-aged black woman in a church-lady pantsuit. Behind her were two children, chattering, bickering,...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XIV Gimme Shelter

XIV. Gimme shelter. "You live in a garage?" They were standing on the little concrete square outside the front door, staring up together at a tidy two story structure that, modifications notwithstanding, still, in fact, looked very much like a garage. "Well, it's not exactly a garage. Actually, It's a converted carriage house. I'm just renting. The woman I work for owns it. She lives in the main house across the garden." "A carriage house? What's that?" "It's where they used...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XV Breakfast Club

XV. Breakfast club. Sunlight poured through the checkered curtains of the kitchen window. The sliced bananas and butter were simmering on the stovetop. Marcia added to them spices she'd already toasted--cinnamon, nutmeg, clove. Together they filled the carriage house like incense. This was the Church of Home and she was performing the celebration of Good Morning. She measured out a half-cup of white flour and poured it into the mixing bowl. In another bowl she whisked three eggs, a...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XVI Buried Secrets

XVI. Buried Secrets. First thing I do on that first day is I take a detour through town to check out this totally demented store where Marcia mentioned she has a job. What kind of a job, I can't quite imagine. From what I can tell, it sounds like something super low-ambition, some not-trying-too-hard menial position that can't possibly pay very much. Given my main reason for showing up here in Hope Crossing, that doesn't bode well for the future of yours truly. You can imagine my...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XVII Hells Angel

XVII. Hell's Angel Walt was in the workroom of his shop when she called. He was putting new brake cables on a Rivendell Sam Hillborne. He was customizing the bike for one of his more well-heeled patrons, a dentist who fancied himself a cycling aficionado. He was the kind of guy who outfitted himself like he was racing in the Tour de France just to tool his way through the park. He always bought the very latest, most cutting-edge gear. Everything high-tech and top of the line. But he spent...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XVIII Beauty and the Beast

XVIII. Beauty and the beast. So I finally got to meet the boyfriend. Surreal! He was one of those big, burly, biker-types. His arms (and who knows what else) covered in tats, the seriouso kind. I'll bet anything some of them are prison tattoos. Long gray hair tied back in a grizzled ponytail. Grizzled beard, too. He was exactly the kind of guy that every dad shudders to imagine his daughter will bring home one day. And here my dad was bringing him home to me! See what I mean by...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XIX First draft people

XIX. First draft people. An occasional bat flickered across the stars overhead. The gardenias and hibiscus had long drawn in their petal- awnings. Across the lawn, the hunched bushes looked like a queue of black-robed monks marching back to their monastery. And in the middle distance, fireflies marked a secondary night-sky of transitory constellations in what might have been an even more unpredictable universe than the one we find ourselves inhabiting, one that blinks in an out of...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XX Glass Houses

XX. Glass houses. To the sadly uninitiated, a bicycle is simply a convenient means of transportation, low-tech, eco-friendly, inexpensive, ultra-democratic. For the fitness conscious, it's a superior form of practical exercise: you could get your aerobic workout and run errands at the same time. For others, the bicycle endures as the conveyance of childhood memories--tricycle, Big Wheels, training wheels, scraped knees and paper routes. However to someone like Walt, a bicycle was all...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXI Full Xanax moments

XXI. Full Xanax moments. Her heart skipped a beat before her brain was fully conscious of the reason. There'd been a total communications blackout between them of several years running but Marcia recognized Claire's old email address immediately. She remembered, too, clicking open the message, the standard post-divorce tone of Claire's emails: terse, authoritative, and demanding. Then, as now, Claire communicated with Marcia as she would with a subordinate whose compliance was taken...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XXII The xfactor

XXII. The x factor. It was a strange council they made that evening sitting on Grace's porch. Walt and Marcia, Claire, and, of course, Grace herself, puttering about busily, trying to make everyone comfortable. It brought to mind those old photographs of Yalta, where Stalin, Roosevelt, and Churchill posed with forced congeniality for the camera, the most unlikely and unnatural of allies, each of them knowing full well that their cooperation was only temporary. That the moment the...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XXIII Strange Geography

XXIII. Strange geography. They really should teach more geography at school, that's what I'm thinking. I mean, I've got to get to New Mexico, but I'm not even sure where it is. In the Southwest, somewheres, which is good enough to say, if you're living two thousand miles away in New Jersey and have no intention of ever actually going there. I don't even know if it comes before or after Arizona. I'm in Oklahoma now, a really godawful place from what I can see of it, which isn't...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXIV Cactus Country

XXIV. Cactus country. The day was cool and clear. An auspicious day for new beginnings. The cloudless sky stretched tight, a blue tarpaulin snapped to the horizon. It was almost enough to give Marcia a feeling of hope. Between all the preparations, hastily made as they'd been, throwing together a pair of travel bags, gassing up the truck, collecting maps and whatnot, they were on the road a little later than they'd planned. Traveling south on I-640, traffic was still light but picked...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XXV Whos Your Daddy

XXV. Who's your daddy? When they asked me at the hospital who my parents were, who my emergency contact was, I guess you can say that I kind of panicked. They were making it pretty clear they weren't going to let me out of here on my own, no way, so I had to come up with someone. Who could I finger for the honor? Mom was out of the question, at this point, and once Marcia found out that I'd lied and basically stolen her money, which I'm sure she must have realized by now, she wasn't...

4 years ago
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Patchwork People XXVI The great escape

XXVI. The great escape. One could imagine a thousand things going wrong, but there was no hitch at the hospital. Their quickly improvised charade worked like a charm. Walt's performance as Phoebe's concerned but understandably angry father was spot-on. Marcia, in her supporting role as distraught mom, hadn't had to act at all. There were the usual papers and forms to sign, a brief interview with a representative from the Chupadero police department and another with a representative...

3 years ago
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Patchwork People XXVII Just south of normal

XXVII. Just south of normal. For the next month, they very much resembled a real family. In the meantime, peace talks with Claire continued, though they were touch-and- go. Grace had gently offered to help mediate and Marcia gratefully accepted her offer. Grace was making progress, working her indelible magic, but it was magic in slow motion. In Claire, she'd met her match, a woman as resistant to miracles as they come. Marcia's ex was angry and would likely remain so, on some level,...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXVIII Departures

XXVIII. Departures. It was one of those mornings that seem unable to decide what it wants to be. Halfway to the airport, a fine rain blew up against the windshield of the pick-up. A few miles later, the sun unexpectedly broke out from a temporary gap in the impregnable line of gray clouds massed like battleships laying siege on the horizon It had finally been agreed that Phoebe would return to New Jersey and sign in to an outpatient rehab clinic. At the same time, she would take...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXIX When cows fly

XXIX. When cows fly. There are no cows outside the window at thirty thousand feet, no oil drills, no billboards, no fast food chain restaurants either. Nothing but space, space, and more space. You always expect to see things clearer on the way back from a journey. I'm not sure if anything is really different than it was before, but I do see it differently, and maybe that makes all the difference. We'll just have to wait and see. I'm not so mad anymore, I guess. That's one thing...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXX Book of Changes

XXX. Book of changes. One morning Marcia came into the Blue Cat and found Grace packing up the snow-globe collection. She carefully wrapped each plastic globe in newspaper before nesting it inside a box beside the others. "What happened? Did Mrs. Pritchard have second-thoughts about selling?" Marcia's eyes widened in disbelief. "Don't tell me you got a taker for the entire collection?" "Neither, I'm afraid," Grace said. Marcia began setting out that morning's baked selections....

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXXI The wisdom of ghosts

XXXI. The wisdom of ghosts. Edgar Birdwell was an awful poet. There was just no two ways around it. It wasn't only that his language was stilted and clunky, antiquated even in his own day, or that his themes were self-censored, disguised in tortured euphemisms to the point of utter obscurity. He was simply a bad writer. There was a good reason he was self-published. Who else would? Birdwell had an ear with more tin in it than a can. Marcia's fantasy, ex- graduate student of...

2 years ago
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Patchwork People XXXII Welcome Home

XXXII. Welcome home. Autumn was now more than just a hint of wood-smoke in the nippy air of a summer evening. The trees had turned and the leaves were in free-fall. In the night sky, the constellations had subtly shifted position. The stars were sharper. The frogs and crickets had grown quieter. "Good evening ladies." Walt waved to them as he cruised passed the porch on the tandem. He was showing up all over town lately riding solo on that bicycle. He was becoming famous for it....

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