”“And I think his plays... , “ Cheryl began, pausing to put words together. “They are like complete visions. Moments on stage. Ethereal. Ephem...ral. Just for us lucky few to see. And once done, they’re done.”“Like gifts for his hometown. Or home area I guess,” Joanne offered.“I did read that marvelous publication of your play,” Gayle said. “And it did make me a little giddy imagining putting it back on the boards.”“Joanne made it much easier for someone to imagine it,” Joe said. “She and Liang. The socks were worn on the heels and the t-shirt was frayed around the collar. Steve didn't waste much money on wardrobe. Ted asked, "Do you still have that old robe." "In the Den closet," I answered as I put some cold chicken and roast beef on the table. I put two potatoes in the microwave to bake. "Which veg, Ted?" I asked. "Always corn, man, always corn!" came the reply. Steve had found the old robe on the door. He came out into the kitchen, blond hair wet and striking blue eyes. . You reach over and land a smarting slap across your Wife's lovely firm bottom and boy does it feel good, with your heart pumping like crazy as you slap that naughty bottom, a good stinging spank.“…no, didn't feel a thing." she says daringly over her shoulder, with a naughty wink to me. Her face looking so pretty, beaming with mischief, as she continues to brandish her achingly spankable bottom, right under your nose. She looks back over her shoulder at you and pulls a silly face and sticks her. It was a miracle.Once, Elizabeth had asked what Elsa loved most about her. Else answered at once: “Your complexion.” And it was true: Elsa loved the skin. Because she loved it directly, her love was pure and uncompromised. And everything was good.Then, one morning, everything changed. Elizabeth’s side of the bed was cold; the skin was pale and clammy. And it didn’t move when Elsa shook her. Elsa wrapped her body around Elizabeth’s still, unmoving form, trying to coax the skin back to life. Soft.
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