Mother May I
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The word that could be used to describe my mother is that she was a "cougar." According to the dictionary "a middle-aged woman seeking a romantic relationship with a younger man." Although having said that, Jerome was older than the usual.

She had younger men before him, which is why she insisted on a "women only household when I have visitors."

Seed
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Can such a thing happen? Can you be a normal heterosexual male, and in a moment become a cum-loving effeminate sissy? Or has the seed been inside me all along? I mean, the seed of womankind.

The seed that has grown inside me and burst through my outer skin to make me such a different creature. But it was his seed that started it. Howard was my roommate and an old family friend. He left it in a coffee mug on the bench. Who does that? Who jacks off into a mug and leaves it on the bench?

Niqab
A Short Story included in my Anthology "Romance and Other Battlefields"
By Maryanne Peters

Yaron said that it was the walk which gave the boy away, but as soon as I grabbed the arm of this niqab wearing “woman” I knew that something was wrong. It was not that it was a man’s arm underneath the black fabric – the arm was slim and soft – but it was trembling. I immediately placed my hand in the small of her back, and I felt the packages.

Best Wife
A Vignette
By Maryanne Peters

I married my first wife when I was young. All my friends had paired off and had steady girlfriends, and she thought I was great, so I guess I was attracted to her for that reason. We did things with other couples, and as they got married the big question was when we were going to do it. She suggested a date and so I proposed. That was it.

Orphans
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My grandmother loved us as if we were her own children. That is how I explain it. It was as if she believed that we were her own children.

Lucy
A Short Story based on Historical Fact
By Maryanne Peters

My Mammy always said that I was more stubborn than a mule, so I always stayed away from mules. I won’t buy a fight if I don’t need it. But my folks knew soon enough that there was no winning an argument with their girl Lucy. Sure, I was born with something that did not belong, and without something that did, but nobody was going to tell me that I was a boy.

Promotional Advantage
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

John Dabney and I were army through and through. We had served three years each out of OCS. Both of us had chosen careers in logistics, but I found myself in a dead-end posting in personnel records in a well-known garrison in Kentucky. John was in the same camp but in another building complex working on engineering support.

Damsel in This Dress
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

I was one of those people who believed that I could handle everything, until one day I discovered that I could not handle anything at all.

It started with headaches. Initially they were the kind that you could pop a pill to put them aside, but then I got those head-splitting things that they call migraine attacks that force you to sit in a still, darkened room, to get any peace. It seemed as if it could not get worse, but it did.

Confronting
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

The story that I am telling is set in the year 2001 which is the year that my mother died, but it really starts much earlier than that, in the year 1969, which was the year before I was born. Earlier that year my mother had a miscarriage. My sister never lasted too much beyond conception, but my mother mourned her until the day she died.

Breathless
A Short Story suggested by Veronica
By Maryanne Peters

The Hound
A Short Horror Story for Halloween
By Maryanne Peters

New Plumbing
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

He sat down in the aisle seat. I was by the window. It was only a small plane so there was just the two of us.

I was on my home that evening. I had come straight from a meeting and I was in my best business suit. The skirt was fairly short and I had on nude pantyhose and a smart pair of heels. He admired my legs as he fastened his seat belt. He smiled at me and I smiled back.

Vengeance
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My name was Michael Inders Moog. Actually it still is, but everyone calls me Mim. It’s my initials you see. I would have hated that when I was just Mike, but I am not Mike anymore. And I don’t use Moog either these days. It is such an awful name. Like a pig with horns and an udder. I have a better surname now – one that I love.

Michael Inders Moog was a successful lawyer. Perhaps successful by having the wrong clients – ruthless and dishonest Wall Street hyenas. He was not so proud of his work.

Kerry Cottage
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

In that part of the West Coast of Ireland the bad weather can come at speed and without warning. He had asked the hotelier if it would rain and had received a typical twinkly-eyed Irish response.

“Well this is Ireland, so it will certainly rain. The only question is when, and where, and how much?”

The answers were here and now and a lot.

The Abbot
A Short Story based on Historical Fact
By Maryanne Peters

I loved her and that is all that I can say. To me she was the very epitome of what a lady should be – beautiful, refined, intelligent and hungry for sex. So why was she a nun? Well, she was not a nun really, because she did not qualify to be one.

A Tear for Bunny
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

She could not help it that she was pretty. I really should ay “he” if I am gonna tell the story, but somehow I just can’t. It just don’t seem right. But maybe I will start that way. The start is his story I guess.

His Mom never wanted him to be in a gang. She protected the kid, as any Mom would. He went to school. He walked through the Hood on his way – kept his head down. Men don’t notice kids until they get big, and maybe start to stare or give some lip.

Wrong Girl / Wrong Guy
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

James was not a patient of mine. I could never offer a patient a job, let alone take a patient out to dinner, or make advances. That would cost me my licence. No, James was a friend. Well, maybe not a true friend, but we have known one another a long time. I have always known that he is a prick, and he has always known that I can be taken advantage of.

Wedding Date
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters