Forbidden
Secret affairs, taboo desires, the thrill of the forbidden
10 stories
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I Definitely Could Have Handled This Better
The condensation on her glass was the only thing cooler than the look she gave me over the rim of that Zinfandel.
Caleb’s Corkscrew
His thumb traced the line where my leggings met my waist, a deliberate, grounding pressure that made my breath hitch in my throat.
Mute
The bass was a bruise against my ribs and West was looking at me like I was the only drink in a dry county.
Fragile Granite
The flour on my palms left white handprints on his dark trousers, a literal trail of my own undoing.
Lock the Front Door
His thumb was tracing the ridge of my hip bone like he was following a contour line on a map he'd memorized.
I Thought We Were Over This Phase
He tastes like the coffee we drank an hour ago and the cold air he brought in from the porch, sharp and grounding.
Well, My HR File Is Going To Be Interesting
Her breath smelled like the eighty-dollar Pinot they were pouring downstairs, and her hand was already unzipping my fly with a reporter’s efficiency.
I Really Thought I Could Play Through This
The way she moved under me had the same heavy, inevitable drag as a B3 organ through a Leslie speaker.
Lapse
I watched the rain smear the Louvre into a grey thumbprint, wondering if you still kept that silver flask tucked in your tuxedo's inner pocket.
The Vapor Room
The condensation on the glass doesn’t just blur the view; it rewrites the physics of how I’m supposed to look at you.