Mister McIntyre’s Secret, Part 10


Title image by sternenrauschen. CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

The entire Mister McIntyre’s Secret series can be found on the List of Stories

Mister McIntyre’s Secret, Part 10

I don’t remember the train ride home.

I don’t remember Penn Station or the cab or opening the door to my apartment. All I know is that I saw things on a Sunday in Autumn. I wrote them down in a little book and I gave them away and then I was lying in my dingy little bed.

I felt very still and very cool and very much a different person. At some point I stopped shaking. At some point I stopped crying. Now it was like I had woken up and there was dew on everything and everything was new. Continue reading →

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Marionette


Title image by chikache. CC BY-NC 2.0

From a somewhat silly request on a forum comes a story I’m quite fond of.

The studio, his studio, that dirty gentleman’s studio, was bare.  All the carefully collected furniture (he collected many things, all of them carefully) was pushed out of the way. The long main room was clear and the mats were on the hardwood floor and early morning light was shining in thick square beams from the old windows and showed the little particles of dust in the air.

Dorothy, as usual, was making art. Luckily, she sometimes let me watch.

She said nothing but led me to a little chair with a connected desk; the ones they have in college lecture halls. On it was a small old fashioned portable typewriter. Black and scratched and loaded with a fresh sheet of paper. A table next to the desk held a box with more paper.

She kissed me on the cheek and left me to my part, which was to record what was about to happen.
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Audiopost – A Reading of Anthony Boudain and the Naughty Chef de Partie

hotcoffeeandcream recorded one of my stories! I think it sounds lovely. I had forgotten about this silly tale and how much I liked it.

The original story can be found here: Anthony Boudain and the Naughty Chef de Partie

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Choke

The girls were sat on a blanket, back to back; naked, save their panties. The black blanket was laid neatly on the somewhat dusty hardwood floor. I knelt in front of Margot and Hector knelt in front of Betty. The rope was around both of their pretty necks. Looped and looped around and around. Their hands tied at their sides, their backs held straight out of either eagerness to please or suspense at what might happen next.
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