The nude prisoner, sound sleeper that she had come to be, was nonetheless awakened by the routine 6:15 a.m. clanking of the old-fashioned key. She blinked her eyes and turned on the rough wooden bench. It was the Assistant Warden, as always, with the guard for her wing. The guards at this women’s prison farm were all female, but the officials were male. “Good morning, Towelewska,” he said, in a heavily accented attempt at her native Polish. By habit and by protocol, the

Yesterday, as the autumn leaves (or what passes for autumn here in sunny SoCal) were beginning to fall and a green gecko leaf fell onto Lisette’s forest and I picked it out and turned to drop it on the ground, I saw her again. Grib. Debbie Grib. Walking straight ahead, hard bare feet thudding on the pavement, with her companion Heidi Grau behind her. It’s hard not to see Grib, inventor of the “hard nude” idea, with her shaved head, and her shaved armpits and shaved pussy.

The initial resistance of our military to the presence of Maik-lings has apparently eased. On my visit I found nothing but kind words. Quiet as they tend to be, these girls tend to win one over. Also winning is their striving for excellence in harsh conditions. Surely a naked girl cannot be comfortable spending most of the day in a chilly hanger in this high altitude, mending the uniforms of airmen. But with Qinyang, as with the others, there is no sign of distress, just

When I posted this chapter on the ASN Story Board (this would be about the year 2000) it freaked out some readers. Maybe I escalated things too quickly. ============================================================== February 4. ​ Today I was invited by Dean Jorgon to accompany him and Anthony Noyes to visit Miss Smithers. I met Noyes only recently in connection with this committee and already I don’t like him. He is overbearing and loud. Also, he doesn’t like it w

February 24 They know today Mom is going to do the Reading, so the kids don’t dilly-dally as they get dressed. Though Abigail unwisely tried to button her blouse herself, ending up short on top. Ethel, the collection envelope in her teeth, kneels down to redo it. It takes some time; there are twelve buttons. “You’ve got some syrup on your butt, Honey,” Mark says. She goes back to the kitchen to clean it off. It happened when Rebecca bumped into he

Not that he was unsupportive of Marikit’s church. These folks acted like they had met Kai-Kai many times and were paying a frequent courtesy call; maybe they visited during every Lab draining. And he helped the church out a lot by being the cook at their annual pancake breakfast, held on a Saturday. It was a huge fundraiser for them, since everyone knew what a good cook he was. Angela had gone last year -- held outdoors because it was a fine day -- and discovered why his panc