Secrets
The Caravan
It’s honestly ironic. I cheated on him so many times yet the one time he was certain he caught me was the one time nothing happened. Ok, a quick, chaste kiss happened. An attraction that led to a meeting that was supposed to be a goodbye happened. The sex he vehemently accused me of having did not. Although, for all the mess the assumption made, I wish it had. I put up with a lot of crap because of it, yet I couldn’t blame him for dishing it out. It certainly looked as if I had done something more, something that justified, made me deserved of the anger, and the humiliation. Even beyond that, I wish it happened because, well, I wanted it.
By Elizabeth Livecchi5 years ago in Confessions
Days of Wine and Madness
Days of Wine and Madness By Kathleen Petrowski The bottom dropped out the day she finally left her husband. The tears wouldn’t stop, they were as unrelenting as his abuse. How could she love a man who was so obviously glad to get rid of her, she was nothing more to him than a burden, a responsibility, a toy for a while and then…nothing, he felt nothing and ridiculed her for feeling anything. She drove 223 miles not sure where she would sleep that night and when it got dark. She felt sort of lucky to find a motel with rooms for $39 a night. She had bought a bottle of gin and a flavored seltzer to help her wash it down so that she might drink enough to not care for the rest of the night, it worked.
By Kathleen Petrowski5 years ago in Confessions
Selfish Encounters
Serenas long red fingernails tapped on the wooden table as she waited for Travis. On the table sat two wine glasses and a half empty bottle of merlot. Travis’ wine glass sat crystal clear, whilst smudges of bright pink lipstick coated the rim of Serenas. Travis was now twenty-eight minutes late. Serena exhaled loudly, not out of frustration, but in attempts to pull herself away from thinking obsessively about Travis. Vivid flashes of the countless flirtatious interactions they had shared in the office made her feel giddy. She scanned her eyes around the carefully decorated beer garden she was seated in. Her gaze was met with many gruff, disgruntled patrons who projected energy of resentment and exhaustion. Serena knew immediately that the bleak energy coming from these men were closely related to the activities they performed between the hours of 9:00am – 5:00pm. Activities which this population of people deemed unavoidable.
By Marissa Holden5 years ago in Confessions
Super Bowl Crashers
Where do I even begin.... The morning of February 4th, 2018. Super Bowl Sunday. My girlfriend’s jobs have always had perks, and this particular year was no exception. She had been working for an experiential production company that was throwing some of the biggest parties of Super Bowl LII and had been going back and forth from LA to Minneapolis throughout the year prepping for these events. As a result, she was set up with an apartment right across the street from U.S. Bank stadium.
By Taylor Levin5 years ago in Confessions
The Butterfly & The Blackbird
Two forms lay entwined on the coarsely textured white sheets. The moon fed its light sparingly, spoonful by spoonful onto the couple as the curtains shifted in the breeze to permit the intrusion of light. Stars slipped like tears down the black cheek of the night. A passing anxiety swept through Philip upon recognizing the sound of a distant, hooting owl: a harbinger of impending, worrisome change.
By Penny Potell5 years ago in Confessions
Abbey’s Tub
Abbey’s Jacuzzi The first time Abbey masturbated, at least inentionally, she told me she was 12 years old. I have to use the word, “intentionally” because as we sat naked in my hottub after our first session of jacuzzi fore play, sipping wine, Abbey had decided to open up to me. Granted we were not perfect strangers when we decided to go naked into the hot tub and watch the sunset on a warm Florida evening, but we had not yet been intimate.
By John Charles Harman5 years ago in Confessions
Second Time Around
"When I wake up in the mornin' love", the words of Bill Withers broke the still of the morning as I reached for my phone to silence the alarm. Usually, those words were comforting, but not today. There was no way I was ready to face this milestone. Snooze, yes, that's it, a few more minutes before I must face the reality of another birthday, snooze. If only I could put this day on snooze.
By Marissa Shelton5 years ago in Confessions
Coming Home Early
George stopped and stared at his front door, taking in all the details. The purple paint that his wife had insisted upon was beginning to show signs of wear. The edges were peeling ever so lightly, dirt and grime had built up around the handle. The brass door knocker was beginning to tarnish as well. George hated this door. He had not wanted a purple door, to him it was obnoxious and gaudy. His wife Emily had informed him he was wrong and simply did not understand these kinds of things and in the end he had relented. He admittedly had no eye for décor, but it still did not mean he had to like it.
By David Kroesen5 years ago in Confessions
The Groundbreaking Part
Friday morning “Please direct your attention to our latest subject. Jessica Johnson, age 29, a computer programmer, who lives alone. It appears that she has been in a romantic comedy vortex for the past couple of days. This sadly is not an isolated incident. Her mother/the person funding this case, Mae Johnson, says that Jessica has been telling her she’s dedicating time to herself” snickered the newest Director of the Should’ve Been Married Already department of Those in Need Inc. “Let’s not laugh, people. I know it is a comical and common excuse, but let’s get back to work. This poor woman is running out of time.”
By Jada Ferguson5 years ago in Confessions
