Frontier Bride
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

If it were not for the disturbances that I had caused, and the trouble thus delivered upon me, I would not have gone West. I was a young man who favored the gentle life, though I could not afford it. I was certainly not ready for the challenge of hard work, it having been avoid assiduously for the first 27 years of my life. But needs must, and I was in need of escape.

Leslie wakes up and finds herself sandwiched naked between her wife Casey and Charlotte. Her face had been buried against Charlotte’s right breast. She also felt Casey still buried deep in her ass with their favorite strap-on. Casey has always been the domineering one in their relationship. That was one of the things she loved about Casey.

The Rose of Kandahar
A Novelette
By Maryanne Peters

It would be good to say that grit and determination got me through it all, but that could not be further from the truth. I survived by surrender and submission. Surrender and submission and two Afghan traditions that turned strangely to my advantage – Bacha bazi and Pashtunwali. Then later another local tradition known as Shadabi. This is really a story about traditions.

Dinner with Polly
A Short Story
(and certainly not an AR fantasy)
By Maryanne Peters

Maggie Dawson looked across at her husband Brian and smiled. They had been married for 26 years and he was still a good-looking man. He was also slight of build and not ruggedly handsome, and his hair was prematurely white, but his skin was remarkably unwrinkled, although thin and pale. She had far more wrinkles than him. She loved him now more than ever. There life together had been much more interesting lately.

“Is Polly coming for dinner tonight?” she asked.

BEEP BEEP BEEP. Somebody needed to turn off the damn alarm. I tried to reach for it but all I felt was pain. I decided to go back to sleep.

I opened my eyes again and there she was right above me smiling. Just like in my dream. She kissed me. Then there were more faces. I wanted to tell them to get out of my dream but I couldn't make my mouth work.

It was literally a slap heard round the kingdom. Reginald's family did not look happy and neither did the King and Queen. They saw their potential new tourist attraction going up in flames due to their hot-headed replacement daughter.

"A lot of things don't make sense. You're gonna have to narrow it down." I said.

"Yeah. Like how they got it in there in the first place." chimed Susan.

No. I meant, why are we on the third floor?" Seeing the confused look on Susan's and my face she continued before either of us could say anything. "Shouldn't there be rooms right below us?" We all stared at each other in silence for a moment, before all coming to the same idea. Without a word we all made our way back down the corridor, towards the staircase, and down to the second floor.

Just grin and bear it, I think to myself as I’m ushered to the front of the large room, where a beer is placed in my hands and a mock crown is placed on my head.

I'd changed my wifi password the day she'd turned me away. I never expected she'd ever see it. Well, my secret was out now. I looked at her to see her reaction. At least she wasn't shaking her head no. Instead she was clutching the small bit of paper to her chest like her favorite doll.

My Father’s Legacy
A Short Story following upon “Legacy”
By Maryanne Peters

Do you remember me? Some time ago I told the strange story of what happened after my grandfather, a famous drag artiste, died and the heirlooms that he left behind. Things that changed my life forever. Those things and meeting my grandfather’s … well sort of his adopted son, I think – Rodney Gaspard.

Carla’s and Angela’s townhouse:
“I can’t believe you got hurt again.” Angela looks at Carla with anger in her eyes.

“I didn’t mean too, sweetie. The organization sent one of their nastiest bounty hunters after me.”

Angela looks at Carla and knew that the organization wasn’t ever going to give up on trying to kill Carla for what she has been doing to them. If Carla had never saved her or quit their ranks. They would leave her alone. It also didn’t help that Carla kept blowing their places up and killing their people.

Legacy
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was nineteen when my grandfather died. It was on the news: “Drag Artiste Dies Suddenly”. Some of you may guess who I am talking about, but I am not going to tell.

He shouldn't have teased his sister chapter 11

by Jasmine Monica
The Americans figure out how to deal with the crises
Chapter 11

Miranda and her family have to figure out what her going into 'heat' means. and just before the wedding. She then has to deal with an old friend and new feelings

Her sauce was good, better than mom's but not as good as dad's. Cooking was his hobby, his release from the stress of the construction business. Sunday belonged to him and mom was only too happy to have the day off.

Neuron Transfer
A Novelette
By Maryanne Peters

For my 100th story posted on Big Closet, here is a novelette. Please read my blog "One Hundred"

When I died I was John Pierpont Morgan Backhouse. I was a successful businessman, although not as successful as my namesake. I was a father, but not a good one. I was a husband – definitely a bad one. In short, I was an asshole.

Caring
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Nobody wants to be a burden on their family and friends, but a man with Multiple Sclerosis is a burden.

MS is an autoimmune disease that affects the central nervous system. It is more common in women than in men and is usually diagnosed much earlier that it was for me. Less than 5% of MS sufferers are diagnosed after the age of 50. I was 51.

Author's note - Sorry for not updating last week. You can blame my mental health for that. Things are better now, so hopefully I can update at least weekly again. As always, comments are welcome. But that's enough from me, let's get on to the story.

She chased me out of the kitchen. I ran in the bedroom with her right behind me. She stopped and told me to take off my shirt so she could check on where I had been hit by the taser. I knew she was going to bug me until I did so I carefully took off my shirt. Sitting in the car and on the sofa had aggravated the dull ache. I heard her intake of breath as she saw the bandage.