Mason looks at me.
"You're a great Mom," he says to me, drawing me close to him. "I have a great family."
I smile.
He's right on the money in this respect.
I couldn't have wished for a happier and more content family life.
I am truly blessed.
And it's all because of a taboo love affair.
Amazing, really.
Almost makes you want to write a book about it, doesn't it?
So I hope you liked the the stories!
Wicked Lil’ Brat was the first book that broke into Amazon Top 100.
If you have already read all this stuff in the past, then fear not. I have two new pieces of content that I am putting in for your enjoyment!
The 6 Train, which is a short story by Mona Cox.
Followed by Bain Vacation, another short story.
Both are never before seen and brand new. They will never be published anywhere else separately.
Our goal in this is simple.
To entertain you as long as we can to give you the best experience with the words that we hold so dear. Because while we may be in various corners of the world, the fact that we are sharing these brings us closer together we feel.
Thank you so much for reading!
xoxo
Alexis
The 6 Train
By Mona Cox
198
Adrienne
“Are you freaking kidding me?”
I practically snarl the words over my shoulder as I elbow my way past the sweaty, greasy man in front of me. My new—and now equally greasy—red Louboutins hit the platform at the bottom of the stairs leading into the Thirty-third Street station, and I keep up my pace, not bothering to listen to the offensive words spewing from his mouth.#p#分页标题#e#
I don’t have time for this. My boss already kept me late in the office going over my new position as an executive marketing consultant at Dover Street Market. Normally something I’d be totally cool with. But today I have an appointment to view a new apartment and I cannot be late. It’s a good one, guaranteed to be snatched up if I miss my appointment. And with my current lease ending in a matter of days, I need to grab it fast.
I swipe my metro pass through the turnstile and break into a run—not an easy task in my impractical and now filthy designer heels. A stream of people is already pouring onto the 6 Train. I manage to slip through the doors just before they slide closed and slump against the edge of the seat next to me.
“Well, that’s just perfect,” I mutter, bending down and examining my shoes. Mr. Greasy McNasty left a huge scuff on them in addition to the grease marks. I want to be charitable and accept that it was just an accident, that anyone could have lost their balance and almost knocked me down the stairs in the crowded rush hour terminal. But then I notice that he somehow snagged my thigh-high silk stockings. There’s a giant rip going all the way from my ankle up past the hem of my pencil skirt. How the hell?
I stick my leg out as far as I can on the crowded train and trail my finger up the tear, lifting my skirt to see just how bad the damage is.
Dammit! All the way to the top where my garter belt is clipped onto it. This is how I’m going to arrive to try to score one of the best apartment deals on the Upper East Side that I’ve ever seen—Adrienne Rhodes, a complete and utter hot mess.
Not if I can help it!
Knowing this is the only chance I’ll get to undo some of the damage, I turn back toward the door and reach up my skirt and unfasten the clips on my right thigh. I glance furtively around, hoping no one is paying attention. Yeah, I’m on a crowded public train with my hand up my skirt, but a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do when a killer apartment is on the line.
I slide the stocking down my leg and slip my foot from my damaged shoe, pulling the tattered silk off and stuffing it in my Prada bag. Just as I start to slide my shoe back on, the train jerks to a stop at Grand Central, throwing my already precarious balance way off. I grab for the pole next to me, but it’s too late.
I’m falling.
I’m about to land on my ass on the floor of a subway train. As if I don’t already have enough ruined clothing for one day.
Realizing there’s not a damn thing I can do about it, I close my eyes and brace for the impact. But then they fly wide open.
Big hands grasp my hips, and I find myself shifting in a new direction, the impact of my fall broken by a lap that is suddenly right under my ass. A very hard, very erect lap.
My breath whooshes from my lungs in a gasp that is half shock, half lust. A gasp that sounds suspiciously like a moan. Because oh my god, I am totally sitting on some random stranger’s raging hard-on. And if feels really damn good.
The people around us move, some getting off the train, some shifting to make room for new passengers.