Soundtrack of a broken heart...

Lizbeth deserves more in her life.
She has the skills and knowledge.
What she is critically missing is confidence.
So much, that her friend Colette has a rather unusual and extreme solution to try.

[A stand-alone story in the "Naughty Witches" verse]

Prologue:
Hi, my name is Sasha Anderson. I just turned 12 years old last week. I'm
four foot ten inches tall, and almost 90 pounds. You may have seen photos
of me on the internet. I am a contestant in America's Hottest Teen
Transsexual Pageant, under 13 category. It's an online beauty pageant for
young transgirls. Some nasty people online have accused my mom of setting
me on the path of being a TS porn star and escort. But it's way more
complicated than that. This is a path that I choose for myself. She

Being in the now has the disadvantage of sometimes not seeing changes, even expected ones, until they are upon you. The past month both Luke and Mary were in the now. They were oblivious to how close her graduation was. They paid no mind to the changing of the day on the calendar. They made the unconscious decision to do so. How could they enjoy the bliss of being in the presence of the one who completes them if they knew the clock was ticking on it. That soon they would be without each other.

The Offer - A crossdresser is offered the answer to all his problems

This is the whole story. I have edited out all the mistakes I could find and
finally written the last chapter. It does have sex scenes in it.

Reluctant Diva 30
Inspired by Lipstick Discipline
Chapter 30 – At the hop

The girls arrive safely back at Canal cottage where they find succour enough to face the next hurdles.

Writing convincing sex scene is bloody difficult as Morgan Philips pointed out. It’s difficult for talented, careful writers and pointless for the illiterate to even attempt. What’s your view, Elsie?”

Beauty

Thanks again to Gabi for her editing and support.

Beauty can be a curse. Curses can be a lesson. Sometimes the mask people show us is a mirror to show us how we see them.

Cautions for death and violence, because this is a fairy tale.

[May 2015. At an office in the centre of Newcastle upon Tyne]
“Flowers for a J Parsons?” came the cry from the deliveryman who’d just entered the busy office.

Almost everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to look towards a small man whose desk was right at the far end of the office and almost hidden by six grey filing cabinets.

All of Frances’ theatre group, technicians as well as players, were agreed they should put on a production of her play as their next project when they’d finished putting on the ever popular ‘The Song of Solomon’ and after they’d had a few weeks rest. Helen the senior sound technician had said, “After all that blatant eroticism, the darkness of your work will be a challenging but interesting contrast, Frances. Angela will actually have to do some work next time.”

The last caused considerable laughter because Angela was the female wardrobe mistress, and most of the women and girls had been on stage for most of each performance at best scantily glad and more often wearing just stage make up.