“Hey Brigid,” another guy said as he passed, “are ya -- FRIGID?”           He could detect Brigid giving him the finger from under the table.  He was fascinated by her even more now.  She could give as well as she got.           “Woo!  Look!  The girl scouts!”  Debra’s announcement got the three of them up.  Careful to put her sandals on first, Brigid joined the rest of them as they went up to the big window facing the street.  They stepped up onto the low sill and pressed th

The gregarious Mr. Penka sat down next to his wife and took over the conversation. He had a folder with him from which he took an article cut out from an old-style newspaper. “This is from Dnevnik, the biggest newspaper in Sofia, the capital,” he explained. The article was in Bulgarian, which no one understood, but was clearly about his wife’s participation in the Project, topped by a photo of the two of them, smiling next to a man in a business suit who Mr. Penka said was th

“She can speak.  And read!”  Rydall, in his ragged tunic, hat off, hair wild around his ears, staggers into the kitchen, to an astonished Mr. and Mrs. Whyte.  The wife is horrified to see the naked girl so close to the doorstep.  “Get that -- witch away from this house!”         “She is no witch!”  Though it is not his place to do so, Rydall pushes the garlic and the St. Benedict medals away from their place on the window sill.  “You have no need of these.  Though I have be

The radiator is fixed but it needs a new thermostat which won’t come in until tomorrow.  That’s ok -- I want to stay in this town until I find out more about Sukie, the girl who is always naked. ​             I wait until just before school is out before walking into town.  I sit on the same bench, at the same time. Again, the school bus empties with middle-school kids.  Again, some high school kids walk by.  But no Sukie, nor any of her friends (I think).  Half an hour goes

“I don’t know anything!” Dareen protested.  “You can’t harm these people!  Leave them alone!”           “We haven’t done anything yet, Ms. Alkaras.  We do not want any harm to come to your brother or to anyone else.  We just want you to tell us what you know.  We are patient and will wait until you decide to tell us.”           “I don’t know anything!” she repeated.  She stamped her foot and pleaded.  “You have to believe me!  You saw me in that cold room with those weights s

The sun hitting her face woke her up.  It must be mid-morning by now.  She got up and brushed the dry blades of grass out of her hair, off her breasts, then pulled them out from where they had stuck to her short pussy hair and even lodged behind between her butt cheeks.  Time to approach the rest stop and form a plan.  Her previous experience with a rest stop had taught her to be careful.  She remembered the college-age girl with the little car full of clothes, whom she had s

Even in the dim twilight her dark Mexican skin must be easy to spot against this wall of concrete.  She certainly couldn’t go down the rungs to be easy prey on flat ground.  The only way to escape was up.  She tried to skip a rung, stretching her foot way up so that her legs were almost a ballet dancer’s split, but she couldn’t get any muscle power that way.  So she just climbed faster.  Soon she was at the top.  She would hop onto the high ground and -- ​         But no.  Th

October 31               It used to be beatniks.  Now it’s astronaut suits for boys, Jackie Kennedy outfits for the girls.  A long time ago Ethel realized that it’s all just good fun and not some kind of quasi-demonic ritual.  Her big, nurturing breasts wobble welcomingly as she bends over and with a wide smile hands out apples and boxes of raisins, and the rice krispies bars she has made.  She puts half dollars into the little UNICEF cartons and is careful to praise every co

[another knock on door]  Come in. [middle-aged woman in wraparound dress enters with young woman, nude] DR. CHO        Welcome, Elena, Dinka.  Wow Dinka, you’re                         getting even darker. DINKA            [giggles, unsteady on her feet] ELENA           She’s trying for Fitzgerald One, sunning two                         hours every day. ALISON          There might have to be a Fitzgerald Type Zero                         for her . . .  Dinka is from Sudan, n

They emerged from the limousine after another tense two-hour drive, still a bit bleary-eyed despite the coffees they had forced down when they met at the British Consulate at 4 a.m.  There were only five of them this time, Lady Fanshaw and Mr. Zinowsky being unable to make it.           Coats and gloves were necessary.  Early mornings in the Gobi are cold even in August.  Peggy was glad she wore fur-lined boots over heavy socks.  They poked around the perimeter of the exhibit

November 26 ​         Today would be Thanksgiving Day in the United States but of course it was no special day here.  In town I was able to make out a poster announcing a town meeting tonight and I decided to go. ​         There was a town council of five older people and they were hearing public comment on what sounded like -- a “tourist pier”?  A man in a suit, evidently an outsider, explained the project and took questions.  My sense was that the townspeople would be happy

Venus ventures into the yard, despite the danger of poop on slippers, and walks over to Momma.  Hugging herself in her bathrobe, she watches as corn is spread.               “Look at Hazel,” she says.               “Yes, it’s bad.”  Hazel is their name for the lowest hen in the pecking order.  As usual, her feathers are half picked off.               “Why is Simon [the rooster] so mean?”               “It’s not Simon.  What does he have to complain about?  He’s got ten hens h

“Yes . . . exactly.”  Brigid watched as the old station wagon turned onto Martin Luther King Boulevard.  Now she looked at the box of toothpicks.  “Thank you much, Rod.”  She opened the box and fumbled to get a toothpick out.  Rod noticed that her fingers were stiff and red.  He glanced down and noticed that her toes were red too.  In fact her body was flushed all over.  White people, you could tell so much about them from their skin.  Brigid tried to hide it but she was feel

Ms. Ling was, of course, a product of the Hsa cold hand, but she took her role as Mailgirls supervisor seriously.  From snatches of various conversations they already knew her father was a Tienanmen Square protestor who had been imprisoned; she was aware of the ill effects of enforced boredom.  That was their explanation for her appearance one day with a large bin of books.  The books had been lying around in various offices and perhaps were no longer needed, or so smoky smel

June 19               As she vacuums the living room carpet, pumps on both breasts, she feels flushed and dizzy.  She stops and lays back on the stuffed chair.  She turns off the pumps and takes deep breaths.  She is well aware of what almost just happened and thinks that maybe pumping both breasts, with the carpet fondling her feet, is not a good idea.  She closes her eyes and says a short prayer.

I’m taking a real chance now.  I shouldn’t be here, hanging out by the side door.  But if someone asks, I can make a plausible argument that I was walking from the movie theatre to the diner, and the voices attracted me and caused me to stop and look.  I can’t be accused of gawking.  Gawking seems to be an unknown concept here. ​             The stage is brightly lit and easy to see from where I am.  And the sound carries.  Sukie and the boy in the red sweatshirt are acting o

With her sense of modesty gone she no longer had the intense longing for clothing, the sense of counting the minutes like she did at the...

It was here, in the sunny, balmy paradise of Brian Cook’s southern California estate, that Tami’s sense of modesty, besieged and...

And I KNOW some of you visit this site. Let me know what you think. I have another book in mind (based on a character who’s already...

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