Hello,
As of today I have three stories that are in process, one of which is actively being written. I will talk about them chronologically from when I first started writing them.
The first story was started in February 2014. The title will more than likely be "Summer Secrets" and will be posted to FictionMania once it is completed. The story was inspired by a forum post by Gandar at FictionMania on 2/8/2014.
"I keep waiting for someone to write a 60's or
70's style story where a woman who owns a salon has a hippie-type son in that
age group (13-18) who won't cut his long hair for a summer job and ends up
keeping his long hair, but forced to work as a shampoo girl working for his mom
in a skirted uniform and finds he loves it."
I realized I'd been that age in the 70s and my mom had worked at a salon and I even had a job sweeping floors for about a week. I decided that I would write a story that combined the wishes of the poster along with people and events I remembered from my time growing up in the 70s
Monday, August 18, 2014
Story: Unforced Errors
Unforced Errors
By Varian Milagro
By Varian Milagro
“This is Yolanda Tackleberry reporting for the Tennis Channel and, along with hundreds of adoring fans, I am waiting for Christine Mahoney to emerge from Vagisil stadium where she has just won the American open single women’s title for the second year in a row and securing a non-calendar year Grand Slam. Standing with me is Christine’s coach Angela Harris,” Yolanda said into her wireless microphone, trying to shout over the noise of the crowd. The young, pretty, blonde reporter thrust her microphone into the face of a middle aged woman standing next to her. “Angela, you must be proud today.”
“Yes, I couldn’t be more proud of
Christine. She has dedicated her life to tennis and it is wonderful to see her
hard work and dedication paying off,” Angela replied.
“Besides Christine, did you not
coach today’s top three finishers in women’s singles at one time, better known
as the ‘Holy Trinity’?”
“Yes, but that was many years ago
when they were teens. Once they turned professional Jeanette Jones and Nichole Thompson
found new coaches. Coaching a professional tennis champion is a full time job
and I simply could not coach all three. By the way they find that nickname
offensive.”
“Isn’t it true that the nickname
originated because in addition to their strict religious beliefs and their
dedication to anti-smoking, abstinence and anti-drug organizations, they are
constantly ranked one through three?”
“Yes, but the girls find the term
sacrilegious,” Angela retorted.
Yolanda said something into her
microphone, but she was drowned out by the roar that erupted from the crowd.
Yolanda turned around to see three women emerging from the stadium. They made
their way along the path which was cordoned off by ropes and enforced by large
men in security uniforms. All three were in their early twenties and dressed in
conservative street clothes. They waved to the crowd and signed autographs as they
slowly advanced towards Yolanda and Angela. The first woman to make it to
Yolanda stood five-seven, had a slim figure and had her strawberry blonde hair
pulled into a ponytail which hung to the middle of her back.
Story: Bethany's Mom Smokes for Her Man
Bethany’s Mom Smokes for Her Man
By Varian Milagro
Beverly was pondering her eldest daughter while preparing dinner when her life changed. She'd just been wondering where she had gone wrong, how her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, could not only try smoking, but also have sexual relations with her boyfriend, when her daughter burst into the house.
"Oh, Mommy Dearest."
Beverly could not believe her eyes as Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen. Not only did she have a lit cigarette in her mouth, but she was dressed up as a street walker. Makeup was plastered all over her face, large hoop earrings hung from her ears, and she was wearing a dress that barely covered her hips or her breasts. "What..." was all Beverly could manage.
“Silence!” Her daughter ordered before she blew smoke into Beverly’s face. “Listen to me and learn your new fate. From now on, besides caring for Jimmy and Donna, your primary concern will be pleasing your husband. You will yearn to bring him to orgasm; it will dominate your thoughts. You will consider yourself an abject failure if you cannot bring your man to climax nightly. The thing is you will soon find that he will have a new smoking fetish. He will only be able to cum if you are smoking seductively for him.” She tossed Beverly a pack of cigarettes. “Better get acquainted with these, Daddy will be home soon.”
As soon as her daughter left the house Beverly sat in a chair and began to cry. That her own daughter would speak to her in such a vile manner devastated her. As the tears slowed she looked at the package of cigarettes that Elizabeth had thrown at her. She stood, walked across the kitchen and dropped the package into the trash. Beverly wondered what had become of the sweet, modest girl she had raised. The Elizabeth she knew would never wear such clothes. Before this week, wearing studs in her ears or a small amount of lip gloss was her daughter’s way of rebelling. Her daughter had taken a purity pledge in her early teens and it had been so important to her. The girl who just stormed out of her house in stripper heels looked like there was nothing pure about her.
Beverly glanced at the clock. She wanted to call her husband, Benjamin, to tell him about the incident with their daughter, but he would be home in less than a half hour so she decided to wait and talk to him face to face. She turned her attention back to preparing a meal for her husband and the remaining children that still respected their parents.
By Varian Milagro
Beverly was pondering her eldest daughter while preparing dinner when her life changed. She'd just been wondering where she had gone wrong, how her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, could not only try smoking, but also have sexual relations with her boyfriend, when her daughter burst into the house.
"Oh, Mommy Dearest."
Beverly could not believe her eyes as Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen. Not only did she have a lit cigarette in her mouth, but she was dressed up as a street walker. Makeup was plastered all over her face, large hoop earrings hung from her ears, and she was wearing a dress that barely covered her hips or her breasts. "What..." was all Beverly could manage.
“Silence!” Her daughter ordered before she blew smoke into Beverly’s face. “Listen to me and learn your new fate. From now on, besides caring for Jimmy and Donna, your primary concern will be pleasing your husband. You will yearn to bring him to orgasm; it will dominate your thoughts. You will consider yourself an abject failure if you cannot bring your man to climax nightly. The thing is you will soon find that he will have a new smoking fetish. He will only be able to cum if you are smoking seductively for him.” She tossed Beverly a pack of cigarettes. “Better get acquainted with these, Daddy will be home soon.”
As soon as her daughter left the house Beverly sat in a chair and began to cry. That her own daughter would speak to her in such a vile manner devastated her. As the tears slowed she looked at the package of cigarettes that Elizabeth had thrown at her. She stood, walked across the kitchen and dropped the package into the trash. Beverly wondered what had become of the sweet, modest girl she had raised. The Elizabeth she knew would never wear such clothes. Before this week, wearing studs in her ears or a small amount of lip gloss was her daughter’s way of rebelling. Her daughter had taken a purity pledge in her early teens and it had been so important to her. The girl who just stormed out of her house in stripper heels looked like there was nothing pure about her.
Beverly glanced at the clock. She wanted to call her husband, Benjamin, to tell him about the incident with their daughter, but he would be home in less than a half hour so she decided to wait and talk to him face to face. She turned her attention back to preparing a meal for her husband and the remaining children that still respected their parents.
Story: The Birth of Bethany
The Birth of Bethany
By Varian Milagro
“Thank you for agreeing to watch Billy tonight,” Nathan Wilson said. “We had a different sitter lined up, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” Nathan drew deep on his cigarette and exhaled smoke across the family room of his large upscale home.
“It’s really no problem Mr. Wilson,” Elizabeth Drake replied. She tried to hide her disgust for his filthy habit, along with her disdain for subjecting his three year old son to the toxic fumes.
Elizabeth was an ardent non-smoker as was her entire family. If it weren’t for the money she would not step foot inside the Wilson’s house, but they paid very well and she had to make rent. Nineteen year old Elizabeth shared a house near the local University with a couple other co-eds. She was working on her first year of a sociology degree and while her parents paid for school they would not help with rent, not when she ‘had a perfectly good room at home’. Elizabeth found that babysitting worked very well with college; it allowed her to pick her own schedule and it quite often allowed her to study on the job.
“We should be back by 10pm,” said Nathan as smoke poured from his mouth. “There are emergency numbers on the refrigerator along with our cell numbers. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thank you Mr. Wilson. I’m sure there won’t be any problems, but if there is I’ll let you know right away.” She wondered if Mr. Wilson knew how ridiculous he looked when he smoked. Besides the smell, there was the health hazard that cigarettes inflicted not only upon the smoker, but all those around them. Elizabeth considered Mr. Wilson a handsome and successful man and looked dashing in his expensive suit, but when he smoked it was as if he was saying ‘I don’t care about myself or those around me’. She found that ridiculous.
“Billy’s bedtime is at seven-thirty,” Mary Wilson said as she entered the family room. Her wavy auburn hair fell to the top of her breasts which were on full display. The tiny, red, strapless cocktail dress, which barely covered her panties, was so tight it caused Elizabeth to wonder how the woman breathed. Mary wore a pair of strappy, silver heels which appeared to be over four inches tall. Her makeup was sultry and dramatic and her silver jewelry was abundant and expensive. And, of course, she had a cigarette in her hand.
“I’ll make sure he is to bed on time, Mrs. Wilson,” Elizabeth replied.
By Varian Milagro
“Thank you for agreeing to watch Billy tonight,” Nathan Wilson said. “We had a different sitter lined up, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” Nathan drew deep on his cigarette and exhaled smoke across the family room of his large upscale home.
“It’s really no problem Mr. Wilson,” Elizabeth Drake replied. She tried to hide her disgust for his filthy habit, along with her disdain for subjecting his three year old son to the toxic fumes.
Elizabeth was an ardent non-smoker as was her entire family. If it weren’t for the money she would not step foot inside the Wilson’s house, but they paid very well and she had to make rent. Nineteen year old Elizabeth shared a house near the local University with a couple other co-eds. She was working on her first year of a sociology degree and while her parents paid for school they would not help with rent, not when she ‘had a perfectly good room at home’. Elizabeth found that babysitting worked very well with college; it allowed her to pick her own schedule and it quite often allowed her to study on the job.
“We should be back by 10pm,” said Nathan as smoke poured from his mouth. “There are emergency numbers on the refrigerator along with our cell numbers. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thank you Mr. Wilson. I’m sure there won’t be any problems, but if there is I’ll let you know right away.” She wondered if Mr. Wilson knew how ridiculous he looked when he smoked. Besides the smell, there was the health hazard that cigarettes inflicted not only upon the smoker, but all those around them. Elizabeth considered Mr. Wilson a handsome and successful man and looked dashing in his expensive suit, but when he smoked it was as if he was saying ‘I don’t care about myself or those around me’. She found that ridiculous.
“Billy’s bedtime is at seven-thirty,” Mary Wilson said as she entered the family room. Her wavy auburn hair fell to the top of her breasts which were on full display. The tiny, red, strapless cocktail dress, which barely covered her panties, was so tight it caused Elizabeth to wonder how the woman breathed. Mary wore a pair of strappy, silver heels which appeared to be over four inches tall. Her makeup was sultry and dramatic and her silver jewelry was abundant and expensive. And, of course, she had a cigarette in her hand.
“I’ll make sure he is to bed on time, Mrs. Wilson,” Elizabeth replied.
Story: The Purse Came First
The Purse Came First
By Varian Milagro
“Don’t forget your purse, Larry.”
I came to a stop. I turned and looked at the speaker; it was my co-worker Janine, a short, serious minded woman in her mid thirties.
She smiled at me and pointed to my desk. “You wouldn’t want to forget that.”
I looked at my cubicle and sitting on my desk was a black woman’s purse. It had short handles, was around a foot or so tall and looked like something a stylish lady might carry. It also had not been there seconds ago when I got up to leave work for the day. "Very funny, that's not mine."
“What?” Janine gave me a frown.
“Who put that there? It wasn't there a second ago,” I said. “Are you making fun of me?” I didn’t find this funny, not in the least.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Look, if you want to leave it here that’s fine with me; I was just trying to be nice,” she said as she turned back to her computer.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I looked around as I walked slowly back to my desk, fully expecting someone to jump out and laugh at their prank. This had to be a joke, but I didn’t know how anyone could have placed the purse on my desk without me noticing. Once at my desk I opened the purse and found a set of keys that looked remarkably like my own. I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, the place where they had been just moments before, but they weren’t there. I pulled the keys out of the purse and verified that they were indeed mine. “What the…?” I breathed.
I stood at my desk dumbfounded; there was a purse on my desk with my keys in it, a purse that appeared out of nowhere. After a few moments I picked up the bag and tucked it under my arm like a football and headed out the door. Once in my car I placed it on the passenger seat and examined its contents. Besides a matching lady’s wallet everything else in the purse belonged to me, my phone, my thumb drive and my pocket knife. I looked in the wallet and it contained my driver’s license, cash and credit cards. I was flabbergasted. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out how this was possible, my headache began to grow in intensity. I had awoken in the morning to a massive hangover. I had drunk a few beers the night before, but hardly enough to bring on a headache of that magnitude. Aspirin had helped a little, but the headache had persisted all day. After a few moments of not knowing what else to do, I started my car and headed for home.
By Varian Milagro
“Don’t forget your purse, Larry.”
I came to a stop. I turned and looked at the speaker; it was my co-worker Janine, a short, serious minded woman in her mid thirties.
She smiled at me and pointed to my desk. “You wouldn’t want to forget that.”
I looked at my cubicle and sitting on my desk was a black woman’s purse. It had short handles, was around a foot or so tall and looked like something a stylish lady might carry. It also had not been there seconds ago when I got up to leave work for the day. "Very funny, that's not mine."
“What?” Janine gave me a frown.
“Who put that there? It wasn't there a second ago,” I said. “Are you making fun of me?” I didn’t find this funny, not in the least.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Look, if you want to leave it here that’s fine with me; I was just trying to be nice,” she said as she turned back to her computer.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I looked around as I walked slowly back to my desk, fully expecting someone to jump out and laugh at their prank. This had to be a joke, but I didn’t know how anyone could have placed the purse on my desk without me noticing. Once at my desk I opened the purse and found a set of keys that looked remarkably like my own. I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, the place where they had been just moments before, but they weren’t there. I pulled the keys out of the purse and verified that they were indeed mine. “What the…?” I breathed.
I stood at my desk dumbfounded; there was a purse on my desk with my keys in it, a purse that appeared out of nowhere. After a few moments I picked up the bag and tucked it under my arm like a football and headed out the door. Once in my car I placed it on the passenger seat and examined its contents. Besides a matching lady’s wallet everything else in the purse belonged to me, my phone, my thumb drive and my pocket knife. I looked in the wallet and it contained my driver’s license, cash and credit cards. I was flabbergasted. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out how this was possible, my headache began to grow in intensity. I had awoken in the morning to a massive hangover. I had drunk a few beers the night before, but hardly enough to bring on a headache of that magnitude. Aspirin had helped a little, but the headache had persisted all day. After a few moments of not knowing what else to do, I started my car and headed for home.
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