| Free Short Stories |
I liked John. I got along with most of the clients in the house, but John was the one I'd ask stuff like where's the peanut butter, or how do you think I should describe that incident last night. We'd hang out when it was his turn to cook. Sometimes he'd make real food. He'd borrow my pocket knife to chop garlic--they aren't allowed to keep sharp knives at the house.
As he cooked, I'd sit on the counter smoking and listening to his stories about New York. He'd even listen to my stories about Madison. Not many of the clients are interested in a staffer's outside life.
This
is a more recent short story that I wrote specifically for Hint of
Seduction, a no-longer-published romance magazine. This was beyond absurd. Ever since the slaves of the city had
whispered the news that a foreign Tactician had taken up residence
at the edge of the forest, they came trotting to her the moment
they broke free. Men and women -- most still bearing their
manacles, some with intact chains -- slipped to her house at
night. Her days were devoted to the masters, of course.
