Randomly male/female, thirties, seeks similar aged, attractive, bi-sexual girlfriend. GSOH and sense of adventure essential, no time wasters please.

The Verdict of the Phoenix

Thanks to Maggie, for giving me permission to include the Spectre. And thanks for Lilith for editing, and for letting me play in the Ret-Con sandbox. But especially thanks to those who read my stuff and keep encouraging me to write anyway.

"God! You're going to be just as cute as can be!"

"But I don't want to wear a dress!"

"Yes dear, I know that, but we both know that you don't have a choice, right? Not after you foolishly said that anyone could do it! I still don't know what came over you, but it's too late for that now, so just stand still and let me help you get ready. We don't want anyone to know that you're a boy do we?"

"Not hardly!"

"Well, lets get started then."

Only the Lonely….

It was the song that was playing on the radio when she woke up in the morning and already saw the start of another hot day. That became a promise as she slipped out of the sheet she had draped over herself last night and had tried to curl up to another night alone.

Summer Sun and a few sweet chords.

It actually wasn’t Summer time or anything close to it. It was late fall actually and she was tired…just so tired from everything that happened in her life. She was in her late forties now and while her life hadn’t exactly been a train wreck it hurt.

Sailing
by
Janet L. Stickney
[email protected]

"Dear lord help me, I beg you!" Chris had felt terrible about not beeing able to resist to his fantasies any longer. He had dreamed about beeing a woman again and in his sleep he had jerked of. He was all ashamed and desperate.
Six months! SIX MONTH he had managed to avoid thinking about sexual things completely! And now that...

He tried eagerly but he seemed unable to get the images of that dream out of his head.

To an audience, the conductor's technique & art are the most mysterious of all the orchestra. Whether it be a world-class philharmonic orchestra, or a youth orchestra of yet-blossoming talent, only a small part of the conductor's work is visible on-stage, glimpses seen perhaps now, as a wave of the hand or baton & maybe then, as a wild dance atop the podium. And the conductor must always perform turned away from the audience, appearing to the outside world as if his or her face were hidden behind a mask…

My Daughter, Myself

By Heather St. Claire

Prologue: The Proposal

It’s a gorgeous late spring day in the Pacific Northwest. A young couple is enjoying a picnic lunch together under a shade tree at a city park. They’ve spread out a blanket underneath a shade tree and have brought with them a basket full of sandwiches, fresh fruit, cold soda, and assorted other goodies.