Forbidden
Secret affairs, taboo desires, the thrill of the forbidden
31 stories
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Aisle 4, Under the 'Foreign Language' Sign
She’s balanced on the rolling ladder like a mountain goat in silk, and I’m ninety percent sure she’s not wearing underwear.
November 14th, 8:14 PM
His thumb hooked into the waistband of my silk trousers, dragging the fabric down just enough to expose the scar from my appendectomy.
A Smudge of Charcoal on a White Collar
He looked at her and felt the same bone-deep rattle you get when you’re too close to a controlled detonation.
Why Did You Let the Door Click Shut?
The air conditioning in the gallery hummed like a low-budget horror score, a cold, mechanical buzz that did nothing to chill the sweat pooling at the base of my spine.
August 14th, 2:44 PM
I knew I was over the line the second I saw her in that white dress, looking like a target I wasn't allowed to hit.
Don't Look at the Clock
The carpet was a violent swirl of hospitality-grade maroon, the kind designed to hide stains and secrets with equal efficiency.
I Definitely Didn't Come Here for the Music
His thumb was hooked in the waistband of her trousers, pulling the fabric taut against the swell of her hip like a resistance band.
Who Told You This Was a Good Idea?
Julian’s hand was a heavy, warm anchor on my thigh, mocking the ‘Quiet Car’ sign while his thumb traced the seam of my stockings.
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"You Really Shouldn't Have Ordered the Pinot"
She traced the edge of my laptop with a fingernail that had a tiny chip in the red polish, looking at me like I was a script she was about to pass on.
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.