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Subject: Sizzler - Romance
Publication Date: August 2004
Sweet Nothings #2: More Tales of Women in Search of Fulfillment
By Randall Lang
A Renaissance E Books publication
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
For Love of Charlotte
On the Night Bus
Our First Encounter
I sincerely hope that you have by now read my first collection of "Naughty Stories" called "Sweet Nothings". I aim these stories toward women who generally prefer their imaginations to stimulate them rather than their eyes and ears. But I also respect men who can enjoy and appreciate adult reading that is free of ridiculous characters, implausible situations, unnecessary foul language, and seemingly endless lines of exclamation points. The difference between erotica and pornography is that erotica is about people while pornography is only about sex. True sexual excitement is not about the sex act, but rather is a "packaged deal" that starts with a glance Ö a smile Ö a note Ö a flower Ö or whatever may open the door to that magical interaction between men and women. It is that wide world of sights, sounds, feelings, scents, thoughts, and sensations that truly make sex the gift from God that it is. It is the enjoyment of that dry-mouthed, nervous, flushed-face, will he/she like me, My God Iím just going to die if I donít kiss him/her feeling that no amusement park on the planet can offer. If you can truly appreciate the wonder of all that, then I believe we are kindred spirits. And so I remain,
She is far away and his heart yearns for her. She haunts his waking hours and now he lays awake. Suddenly she appears to him as if in a vision, but is she real? Is he dreaming? How can this be? But he does not care! Every fiber of his being knows he has but one purpose to his life.
FOR LOVE OF CHARLOTTE
The summer night was heavy with just a hint of a cool breeze through the open window. The moonlight flooded into my bedroom casting twisted and stretched shadows of ordinary things. Thoughts of my far away Charlotte had filled the hours, energizing my mind and holding sleep fiercely at bay. Her image, her voice, the sound of her laughter, the scent of her hair, allowed me no rest.
Suddenly, as if on the wind, a vision! My Charlotte appeared at the doorway and seemed to float slowly and effortlessly toward me. The breeze gently fluttered her gown of softest green. It appeared weightless, as if she were enshrouded by the faintest of delicate green ghosts. I caught my breath as she passed by the window, her form silhouetted against the moonlight. Her red hair shown with highlights as shimmers upon a pond. I prayed to God that this be real and not merely a dream. I rose to meet her, taking her into my arms; crushing her against me and kissing her deeply with all the desire my soul had know in hours gone by. My hands passed over the filmy gown that seemed to disappear in an instant, leaving her flesh cool and fragrant against mine in the night air.
I swept her into my bed, fearing that in a momentís separation my vision would be gone leaving me again in my emptiness. I remained silent, afraid that this blessed dream, if that's what it was, might be broken by any spoken words. My lips tasted the sweetness of her mouth even as I drank in the scent of heather in her hair. My hands explored her hungrily, wanting to know every fiber, every inch of her. My passion filled me with desire to know the touch, the taste, the feel of her; to know her very being.
And so through the small hours did I love her and make love to her. Time passed in measure of sensual delight, and in cries, sighs, and whispers. So insatiable was my want of her that I knew I must restrain myself, lest I injure so delicate a flower.
And yet, without my knowledge or consent, sleep overtook me and stole me from my love. I awoke at first light to find the emptiness had returned. My frantic search, calling her name, was to no avail, for no trace of her remained. All that was left was the memory, burned into my mind as if by fire, of my sweet Charlotte and the passion I carry for her. Had the night been real? Was it all a dream created by my desire for her? My memories served only as fuel to drive me onward. I knew I must find my Charlotte! If she is near, I will find her. If she is far, I will move the earth itself to have her by my side. My passion burns so brightly that I shall never know fulfillment until my sweet Charlotte is with me.
Joan was angry and fed up with Tom and that rusty pile of junk he had dragged home. It was always in the way, it took entirely too much of their money, and Tom had virtually ignored her since it had arrived. Their marriage was headed for the rocks and their sex life had disintegrated. That was, until they discovered a whole new use for the automobile.
At first Joan had been reluctant about buying and restoring the old car. She had argued with Tom that they didn't have the money and he didn't have time to do the work. But when she saw the excitement in his eyes at finding a Chevrolet convertible in running condition, she finally gave in.
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