He looked at the trim woman with the dark brown hair sitting across from him. The younger sister, Janie, was overweight, lacked Susie’s social skills, and hid in Susie’s shadow.īlue caught himself. She’d aged the way he imagined her younger sister would age. Though her smile remained the same, in the intervening twenty-five years, Susie had gained thirty pounds and changed her hair color. They made plans to marry when he returned from Vietnam. While she was student teaching in the spring, she’d reconnected with an old boyfriend from high school. That evening began an off-again, on-again romance that lasted almost until graduation. Back in her dorm room, she’d taken it off and returned it. She took it right off his back.Īt the concert, Susie wore the shirt and nothing else. She agreed on the condition he surrenders his paisley shirt. Their sophomore year they’d been studying the Great Vowel Shift over coffee at the Hilltop when he’d gotten the nerve to ask her to an Ian and Sylvia concert. Susie crossed her legs, reminding him of her propensity for short skirts. Finally, he rejoined Susie and the vaguely familiar figure sitting across from her. He couldn’t remember if he’d shaved this morning, or if that had been Tuesday. He gathered his laptop, legal pads, and files and pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up on his balding forehead. “Apparently you never left.”īlue eased free from her grasp. “I never expected to see you here.” Susie took him by the arm and started dragging him to her table. At the mid-point between their two tables they met and hugged as if the last twenty-five years had been a long weekend. The older of the two turned his way, and there was the moment of recognition. When he returned, he noted two middle-aged women now seated by the picture window facing College Street. He stood, adjusted his baggy cargo shorts, and walked the six steps to the men’s room wearing a black Tommy Bahama shirt with a giant red parrot. That day at 11:03 a.m., Blue stretched his neck, arched his back, and massaged the base of his spine before packing up his notes. She allowed him to work undisturbed until the lunch crowd filtered in at which time he packed up and left a $6.25 tip for the $3.75 tab. Eventually, she knew her father, Orlo Morgan, would pass on the restaurant to her (as it had been passed on to him by his father), and there would be no more time for religious study.īlue found Sheila a distracted waitress, but a competent student despite her undergraduate degree in restaurant management. Now he was her thesis advisor, and she was enrolled in his Jesus Seminar for Fall Semester. He’d been a regular at the Hilltop since his days as an undergrad, so she understood his quirks. Sheila began a master’s degree in religion the year she turned forty-three. She waitressed mornings, cooked for the lunch crowd, then called in the produce orders. She left him alone, except to refill his coffee. and ordered The Special: two eggs (fried hard), two slices of buttered toast, hash browns, pork sausage links, and black coffee.Īfter breakfast, Sheila Morgan, the owner’s redheaded daughter, cleared away his plate while Blue poured over Nag-Hammadi manuscripts. Benjamin “Blue” Boru’s usual table occupied the back corner by the bathrooms underneath the giant wheezing room air conditioner. I look forward to sharing all sorts of intimate tales on this site.For fifty-three years the Hilltop Diner on College Street fed the academic community of the University of Southern Iowa (USI). Any feedback that helps me improve is greatly appreciated. I seek to make every story I write as sexy and as high-quality as possible. If you really like these short stories and want to encourage more, then consider making a donation.Īs always, I encourage everyone to provide feedback on these short stories, as well as my novels. If you enjoy these narrative quickies, then you’ll probably enjoy my novels, as well. As such, consider these short story the erotica/romance equivalent of free samples. Those bigger stories are part of a larger, sexier package. I still intend to dedicate the bulk of my sexy storytelling to my novels. These are the kinds of sexy stories you can read on a lunch break, a bus ride, or whenever you’re in the mood for something sexy, yet concise. Every now and then, I get an idea for a story that’s not big enough for a full-fledged novel, but still worth telling. This section is a hub for all the sexy short stories I’ve written on this blog, to date.
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