Our Price: $4.00
      ISBN: ISBN 1-58873-405-6
      Subject: Sizzler - Romance
      Pages: 222
      Publication Date: July 2004

      Sweet Nothings: Tales of Women in Search of Fulfillment

      Tales of Women in Search of Fulfillment

      A Renaissance E Books publication
      ISBN 1-58873-405-6
      All rights reserved
      Copyright 2004 by Randall Lang

      This book may not be reproduced in whole or in part without written permission.

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      A Sizzler/Scorcher Edition


      At Her Office

      Betty's Butterfly

      Her Perfect Evening

      Pleasure Dungeon

      Too Close to the Guns

      Arturo Y Alberto


      The stories in Sweet Nothings are as real to me as if I had lived each one. They each burned through my mind, screaming to be documented and would not rest until they were written, refined, and polished like small gems. The only thing missing was to offer them to others for their reading pleasure. By this publication, that goal has now been achieved. It is my sincere hope that you can become as involved with the stories, the characters, and the situations as I did while writing them. May they sweep you into their special world to give you a moment's respite from your own. It is also my wish that your own life have adventures and encounters to pale these by comparison.

      I can only hope these stories will again bring you a smile, a laugh, a dream, a feeling, a thought that you have not experienced before. I would like for us to meet someday to compare your stories with mine. Everyone has a story or multiple stories to tell, each a humor, a passion, or possibly a sadness that is as unique to them as their fingerprints or DNA. Until we meet to swap those stories I remain,

      Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,

      Randall Lang

      There's an old saying that, "Behind every successful man stands a good woman". But in these days of the search for gender equality, sometimes the saying should be, "Beneath every successful woman is a good man." Especially when it's "AT HER OFFICE".


      She sits at her desk. It's a large desk in the large corner office; the office with two windows and a view of the harbor. The credenza has a private bar with mirrored doors. She's worked hard to get this office, yet with it comes much responsibility and long hours. The lights in her office are the only ones still lit on that floor in the high rise office building, except for the dim security lights. All the other desks are empty and their occupants have long since gone home.

      She leans back in the tall chair, stretching, closing her eyes. A long sigh comes from her lips. She seems distracted, unable to sit still. She twists slowly from side to side. Her private line rings.

      "It's probably Dawn!" she exclaims and gathers up the phone on the third ring. She is correct, it's her assistant, calling from home to remind her that her first meeting tomorrow has been moved up a half hour to 7:45am. She fumbles for her day planner and scribbles down the correction. She seems unable to concentrate and is impatient with her assistant. Finally she barks, "All right, I'll be there!" and sharply hangs up.

      Again she leans back and stretches in her chair breathing heavily. Head tilted upward, eyes closed, shallow sounds pour from her slightly open mouth. Her breathing is becoming more labored; her hands grip the heavily padded chair arms. She twists and writhes in the chair, her breath coming in gasps. Unintelligible noises come from her mouth, her fingers dig deeply into the padding.

      Suddenly her body stiffens as if struck by an electric charge. The sound of "Ohhhh!" rolls through her lips. For an instant, she relaxes, then she tenses again, and again. "Ohhh!" A third time, a fourth, a fifth, every muscle in her body stiffening. Finally the movements stop. She collapses into the chair, drained, her head dropping forward. She sits immobile as if stunned. The office is quiet.

      A moment passes, then, as if by itself, her chair moves back away from her desk. From the kneehole comes a male voice. "Come on, I'll buy you dinner!"

      "Might as well" she replies, "I'm wasted anyway. Oh my, that was good! You're getting much better." She moves the chair further back.

      From under the desk crawls Jacob, her boyfriend, lover, and new vice president. His vest is open, and his tie is loosened.

      "Thank you, ma'am! I work very hard for you. We'll have dinner, then we'll go home. I'll wash your hair and we'll make love till we fall asleep," he tells her.

      "Sounds good to me," she says as she rises, pulls up her panties and pantyhose, and adjusts and smoothes her skirt.

      He stands and kisses her, then helps her with her coat. With a flourish he turns and reaches for the telephone to call a cab. The call requires only a moment before he hangs up and turns to her.

      "A good vice president always serves his president well," he tells her, smiling broadly.

      She laughs and smiles back at him. "And you're not to forget that!"

      He opens the door for her, then dutifully turns out the light as he follows her down the dimly lit hallway.

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