Contributor: Barb Folger
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Homoerotic baloney laid sexily over aching, spread-eagle bread: and breakfast? Forget about that meal for the rest of your life. Chilled was the syrup: and it poured languidly, lazily, down a long, velvety trough of green plastic which could be guided over plates and silverware. The shade was intoxicating, a haven for barren women who had absolutely nothing holding them back from the hottest peaks of self-indulgence with a field of strangers.
“I have been alerted to certain technical difficulties going on with my chauffeur, Mr. Andy Canglemeyer, which have forced me to exert myself on other duties.” Her lies sizzled on the April wind like a naughty child baking in the oven, and the challenging hands that reached out to grab her by her gingham dress were bejeweled with elegant gems from the whole world over.
The...
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Author:
Barb Folger
