The dream was always the same. Amy wore a dress she could only describe as early June Cleaver, and her lingerie was straight out of the fifties as well – she had never in her life worn a garter belt for heavens sakes, or stockings. Even her heels weren’t really stilettos. She shook her head. She was in a small room with minimal furniture, a simple couch, the awful table and two chairs. Awful because she knew how he would use it.
My New Book
I’m So Excited!My first story is out on Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and Smashwords. Click on the cover image above to link to them