Look what's here, my dears!
Through the Storm is now available, proceeds going to benefit Mercy Corps. Here's the beginning of my story, Sinkhole:
"Those clouds came out of nowhere," Nadine said. She stopped and gazed upward. The sky had been flat, blue, and limitless when we left my mother's house to go for a sanity-preserving walk, but now ominous gray and black lines made it look like stained, wrinkled fabric.
"Florida does that sometimes," I said. "It can change all of a sudden."
She leaned forward to adjust her shoe. As usual, it was made of glittery scraps of uncomfortable plastic and impractically high heels. "I think I'm getting a blister. I don't know if I can make it back to your mom's before the rain hits."
I sighed. It had been a tense trip. Much as I'd tried to prepare my mother for the experience of meeting my girlfriend, the reality of Nadine was apparently even more disturbing to my socially conservative mother than the idea of her had been. Nadine had responded to the stress by transcending her usual standards of femme perfection, achieving a cold, brittle, architectural beauty that required perfect hair, clothes, and makeup and meant I was rarely allowed to touch or kiss her. I had responded by getting horny. That combination meant that when I wasn't fielding hissed comments from my mother in the family kitchen, Nadine and I were mixing it up in our hotel room by arguing, not fucking.
I was tired and unhappy, and I didn't have a whole lot of patience left for Nadine's shoes. "Can you take them off, baby? It's only a few blocks back to the house."
She pouted. "The sidewalk would rip my stockings."
Hope springs eternal, I guess, because I couldn't resist a pointed look up and down the length of her shapely dark legs. "You could take those off, too," I pointed out. The mere thought of the bare skin of her thigh made my clit pulse.
You can find it from various vendors here.