City pulses outside my high-rise apartment window. Horns blare. Neon flickers. By day, I’m the shark lawyer, crushing opponents in court. Suits crisp. Voice steel. But tonight, in this hidden bedroom lounge, mask shatters. Guillaume arrives. 21, built, eyes hungry.…
Paris pulses. Train station buzz. Friday drags. Library desk. Calls for sister’s birthday bash. Sekhmet scratches at home. Jealous whiskers. Cuddles purr. Work grind. Gift hunt. Gym sweat. Dinner chats. Thesis whispers. Photos double-printed. Shower steam. Long kiss seals night.…
Storm rages outside the hunting pavilion. Lake water drips from my soaked gown. Antonin bursts in, carries me like prey. Fire crackles. I shiver, but not from cold. Heart pounds. Widow’s mask cracks. No more pious veil. No convent chains.…
City prison dungeon. Christmas Eve. Damp stone walls suck the life out. I’m Blanche, jailed for a damn pear. Days of dry bread, thin soup. Geôlier Amédée slams the iron door. I curl on vermin-infested straw. Coughs rip my chest.…
Hot sand bites my soles. Dunes loom like guardians. La Lede beach. Naturist haven near La Palmyre. No kids today. Damien and I drive early. Hearts race. Pulse quickens. We’ve tanned nude at home. My body’s killer curves. His eyes…
Mojacar hotel elevator. Cramped. Fifth floor stalled. August 2005 heat sticks my tank top to my skin. No bra. Nipples poke hard. Javier, the blond bellboy with freakish blue eyes, grips his phone, barking Spanish. Painter guy’s foot slides over…
Stéphane’s luxury car idles in the shadowed street. Engine growls low. City pulses around us. Neon flickers. I slide in. Silk dress clings to my triathlete curves. Martin’s face haunts the rearview. Shocked. Broken. Perfect. I drop the mask. No…
City lights pulse outside the window. Nine PM. House quiet. Daughter asleep. Alexandra’s late. I’m on the couch, legs crossed, naked under silk robe. Patrick stands there, awkward. Tells me she won’t be back till midnight. I lock eyes. No…
Grand garden buzzes. Lights flicker. Flowers choke the air. Tables groan under feasts. Wine flows red. I’m Amélie de la Baysière de la Founette. Widow at 25. Mask on: elegant lady. Inside? Starving beast. Émeline’s wedding. My friend glows in…
Three days in this new subdivision. August heat clings like sweat. Terrace glows under twilight. Champagne fizzes. I’m in panties only. Didier too. Skin bared. Free. I light cigarettes. Hand him one. His fingers trace my thigh. Neighbors’ light flips…