Chapter 16

The next few days were quiet and Wendy and I got around to cleaning out the flat after the weeks it had been collecting dust and we did a bit of shopping to restock the pantry. I then had a phone call from the agency asking if we could all go and see them the next day; they would send a mini-bus at ten. We let the other girls know to be ready.

Gender Flow
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

“I might consider myself gender-fluid,” he told her. “I just flow male 100% of the time. But one day, if I wake up feeling girly, I would put a dress on, just like that one.”

Chapter 15

The girls were delivered with their luggage a couple of days later, excited at being in London but also wondering why they were with us so early. I explained that the agency we worked for had an urgent need for four models to take part in a long photo shoot and that I had volunteered them for the job.

Author’s note: This started as my entry in the tropes contest, but since I couldn’t finish it in time, I decided to set it free as a solo ….

The adventures of Overpowered girl (and her sidekick The Scribe)

Cast of Characters:
Dottie (Me!), aka the Scribe, sidekick of Overpowered girl
Jaci, my best friend, and not-so secretly known as OP girl
Now on with the show!

Chapter 14

We went now to the Officers Mess where we were allowed to freshen up. We were then taken into the mess hall where a long table was set for dinner. The Major told us that we would be joined by some of the officers and invited NCO’s that were in the camp at the moment. “Many of these men have served more than one rotation overseas and all had been down that village street so there may be some comments about it later” he said, with a wicked grin on his face.

Michael and Jason had been partners in a failed scientific venture. A few years later, when Michael’s wife left him, he blamed Jason. He then used the knowledge they had learned together in their laboratory to exact his revenge.

The Promise - Chapter 3

Life goes on. The house down the street from the school was torn down. Celia thought to herself, “Even if Amy could come back she wouldn’t have parents or a home to go to.” She was sure Amy must grieve for her parents. She loved them regardless of what they had done. But a hail of bullets had ended any chance of ever seeing them again. Celia wondered how Amy could deal with the loss. She was sure she couldn’t if it were her parents.

It all started one morning in Home Room, soon after I had started Sophomore year, when Mrs Black announced that a new foreign boy would be joining our high school. She looked at the paper and said that she thought he was from Germany since he was named Gerd. At that moment the new boy arrived. He conformed to the stereotypical German in that he had blond hair and the most amazing blue eyes. He wasn’t tall, probably some eight inches shorter than me. Overall “Cute” would be an apt description. I also noticed his long gorgeous legs. I was determined to enjoy them as much as I could that day, since there was no way the school would allow him to wear such a ridiculous short skirt more than the first day.

Amy showed up at school the next day looking not quite as gloomy as she had been. Celia hoped that she had helped Amy by sharing the burden. Then, after just a few minutes in class, Amy was called to the office. On her way out, she looked at Celia. It wasn’t an accusing look. It looked more like a sad “goodbye”. Celia was sure Amy would be back, but just the fact that she was called to the office set Celia’s mind to manufacturing terrible scenarios. Maybe Amy’s parents were headed to prison. Maybe Amy was headed to prison! Whatever was happening could not be good!

Viral Hot Spot
By Ellie Dauber © 2020

A viral hot spot -- not Covid is found on a college campus; as reported by the CDC.

Viral Hot Spot
By Ellie Dauber © 2020

The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) has confirmed the presence of a Bimbo Virus hotspot at Crayton University in Abadla, Texas.

Matching Maids
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

She went way too far, and I let her. The fact is that I wanted to be her boyfriend so much, I would have (as the man said) caught a grenade for her.

When she insisted on the all body waxing, I should have refused. It was just that the chance to lay beside her and go through the same pain, seemed like something special to share.

Chapter 12

A week or so later the chief got in touch and asked us if we could try to get a three week break from modelling as he wanted us to attend a course. As we still had not got around to resigning we were intrigued about this and called the agency to see if we could get the three weeks break.

Summer Intern
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

Who could believe such an asshole could become my closest friend? I put it down to the power of womanhood. When it comes down to it, we are the superior sex. Our chemistry can dominate and drown out the worst things about men.

This is a sequel to ”My Date as Teenage Girl Model”. You really should read that first (can be read as stand-alone). This time it’s told from Darius’ point of view.

I had really enjoyed my date with ”Amy Amstel” but I thought that was it. I was mistaken. The (very) local TV-station got hold of it and made a silly piece about it. This caused me and Andrew some discomfort. Andrew made a joke out of it and I – well, I just let it blow over and that was it, I thought.

A couple of weeks later I was asked to come over to Andrew’s place. Why? We never interacted. Well, apart from the “date” but that was definitely with Amy and not Andrew, remember. When I got there I was getting very worried since a representative from Amy Amstel’s agency was there. Had I got myself involved in some breach of copyright or anything like that? Honestly, it was just a bit of fun! So what if I’m a bit obsessed with Amy Amstel? I’m not a stalker. At least I don’t think so. The situation was worse than I thought at first. They offered me a summer job. A completely outrageous, ridiculous job bordering (on the wrong side) of lunacy.

Patsy Power Part 39

On the Sunday we went for walks in the city parks but had to get a taxi when someone thought they knew me and was getting a bit too personal. Sunday evening we flew back to Nashville. It seemed that we were better off in a town where everyone knew us and let us be.

This photo of Hotel Classic Inn is courtesy of Tripadvisor

Saturday Afternoon
Harry was relaxing on a Saturday afternoon, the recliner tilted back, the cat in his lap and a good novel in his hands. His wife Carmen was out shopping, leaving Harry a very contented man. So content that the good novel was resting upside down on the cat, who was sprawled across Harry's lap in a posture that only a trusting feline could find comfortable.

Weerd things happen in th’ werld. Ah’ve seen some really weerd things in my life. But th’ weerdest, though. That ‘ad to‘ve been the summer of ought eight.

Ah was near ‘bout thirty years old. Ah don’t rightly know the exact number a years, cause ah was borned in the country, ‘n Mam ‘n Pap; Well they didn know the year any more ‘n ah did.

Ah kina followed in Pap’s ‘xample, ‘n ah made a farm fer m’self. Ah married Polly soons ah sold m’ first few head a cattle.

The Governess
A Short Story based on American History
By Maryanne Peters

It was in the year 1703, 20 years ago, that I first came to work for Edward Hyde, His Lordship Lord Cornbury, then His High Mightiness the Governor of the Colony of New Amsterdam, now the state of New York in the Americas. Now I am Lord Cornbury, soon to die, while he who once was His Lordship, leads the life he always wanted on those distant shores.

Chapter 10

Back in London we were working hard and everything seemed going well. I had not been contacted by the gang so I thought that I may be free of them. A couple of weeks later the chief let us know that the Scottish project had been wound up after the target had been sent to a retreat in the hills.

Bridal Choices
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peter

I now understand why it happened. I have been a fool all my life. I imagined a life for myself that was dictated by the shape of my body, not the shape of my soul. I now know how wrong I was.

Passing for White
A Short Story
By Maryanne Peters

My mother was a quadroon. It’s not a term that is used much nowadays, but it refers to a person, and usually, a woman, who is only one quarter negro.

Chapter 9

Wendy and I were playing another couple of models in a game of beach volleyball. With our height we were the current champions but this game was getting too close for comfort.

Truth in Tears

by Erisian

My dad was never one to go to church, nor one to talk about what he believed. As a teenager I asked him once if he believed in God and even now I remember his reply. He looked at me carefully from behind those antiquated black-rimmed glasses of his and said simply, “Doesn’t matter if I believe or not, son. God is either there or he isn’t. But this life, well, this life is mine to live as I choose.” At the time I was frustrated that he didn't answer the question; it wasn’t until much later that I realized he had in fact answered something perhaps far deeper.

He was like that, my dad.